Did Somebody Say McFriction?
by Cajun Quinn
Summary: Thieves. Assassins. X-Men. Yep all in one story! Decided to end it as it is. Mostly deals with the problems between the two Guilds after the Unification, but it also brings together the two aspects of Remy's life.
1. Part One

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

(NOTE: Gambit, Emil, Gris-Gris and all the rest of 'em belong to Marvel, not me. Although you know, I really wouldn't mind if someone wants to give 'em to me…grin. At any rate, the story itself is mine, but that's all I own. Suing is pointless; I have literally no money. Sigh.)

***

Part One

The voices started out as a jumble of words that didn't make any sense. They sounded far away, distant, as if part of a dream. Slowly, bit by bit, they came closer, became louder in his conscious. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, and he realized that the voices had not been part of a dream. They were right outside his bedroom door.

As his red on black eyes focused in the semi-darkness of his room, Remy LeBeau let out a sigh. It had only been two months since his father had left New Orleans and the Thieves Guild. Remy still wasn't over it. He wasn't sure he would ever forgive his father for putting the well being of the Guild in his hands. He didn't _want_ to be the Guild leader. And he certainly didn't want to be the leader of the Unified Guilds.

When Jean-Luc LeBeau had left, the two Guilds, made of ancient enemies the Thieves and the Assassins, had still been two separate entities, and all was well. But somewhere been then and now, they had merged into one, and Remy felt as though the headache he got that first night after the unification was slowly getting worse instead of getting better. It wasn't exactly that Remy didn't want the two Guilds to be joined into one…if that was what the prophecies called for then who was he to complain?…but why did _he_ have to lead it? Just because the prophecies called for that as well? What a joke. He could think of two people who were just as suited to be Guild leader as he was; nay, they were both much more suited than he.

Remy sighed again and pushed the covers off his slim body. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and shivered slightly when his feet touched the floor. 'I have to remember to get carpeting put in dis room b'fore I freeze my feet off!' he thought with a groan. As he approached the door after putting on his slippers and bathrobe, he sighed for a third time as he recognized the voices. He opened the door and found himself almost literally face to face with two of the Assassins: his ex-wife Bella Donna, viceroy of the Unified Guilds, and her right-hand-man, Gris-Gris, a master of voodoo magic.

"'Scuse, me, but is dere a reason why de two of you are standin' outside my door yellin' at each other at six-thirty in de mornin'?" Remy asked, stifling a yawn and giving them his best 'You-better-have-a-good-answer-for-dis' look.

"Remy, it's really none of your business." Bella Donna replied.

Remy snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, right. If de two of you didn' want me to know 'bout dis you wouldn' be yellin' outside my door."

"Okay, okay. But I want it known right now dat you owe me." Bel said.

"I owe you?" Remy returned, raising his eyebrows. "For what?"

"For savin' Emil's life, dat's for what." Bel told him.

"Dat obnoxious little brat doesn' d'serve to live." Gris-Gris commented darkly. 

"Watch yer mouth, Gris." Remy said, his red pupils flashing dangerously at the Assassin.

"Why should I?" Gris-Gris demanded sharply. "He doesn' watch his."

"What'd he say dis time?" Remy asked, knowing full well that his best friend had a tendency to speak first and think later. Emil and Remy had been close friends since they were ten, and in the past fifteen years, Remy had learned on more than one occasion that Emil's mouth got him in trouble. Sometimes, it even got both of them in trouble. Remy was one of the few people who tried to put up with Emil's ways, though, because he cared about Emil, and knew he would never change.

"He's always sayin' somet'ing. It never ends, every time he opens his mouth, he says somet'ing he'd be better off not sayin'." Gris commented. "Dis time he actually had de nerve to say de Assassins didn' want de unification in de first place. He also said it wouldn' surprise him if we were tryin' to undermine it all de time, which we're not. I swear, LeBeau, if he doesn' watch it, he's goin' to get hurt. One of dese times…"

"Gris, leave him alone. I don' want to hear you threatenin' him 'gain. I'll talk to him." Remy said. "Bel, t'anks for doin' whatever you did to help him out. Now can I go back to bed now? Will de two of you stop yellin' out here now?"

"We're sorry for wakin' you up, Remy." Bel said, starting to walk down the hall to her own room. The Guild members all had rooms at the Garden District safehouse, although they didn't all live there permanently. 

  
Gris-Gris looked at Remy. "I can' promise you I'll leave him alone, Remy, mais, I will say dat I'll leave him alone if he stops sayin' stupid t'ings."

"Fair enough, Gris. An' I will talk to him. I can' say he'll stop, but I'll see what I can do 'bout getting him to tone it down some." Remy replied.

Remy went back into his room and got back into bed letting out a fourth sigh. He had a feelin' dat anytime Emil and Gris-Gris were in the same room together, dey were going to need chaperones. Gris' patience with the young thief was wearing very thin, Remy realized, and sometime the big man was going to snap and seriously hurt Emil. He had already almost choked Emil to death twice for saying something obnoxious and stupid.

'One of dese days, Emil's gon' say somet'ing stupid, an' no one will be dere to rescue him from Gris.' Remy thought before drifting back off to sleep.

***

Remy walked into the living room of the safehouse that afternoon and found Emil and their friend Genard Alouette sitting across from each other, playing Scrabble. Genard was five years older than Emil and Remy, but he spent more time with them then he did with the other members of the Guild.

"Hey, Emil, can I talk to you for a second?" Remy asked.

Emil looked at Genard, who shrugged. "Go ahead, Red. I have to look up somet'ing in de dictionary anyways."

Emil followed Remy out into the hallway so they'd have a bit of privacy. "What's up, Rem?"

"Gris was pretty upset wit' you dis mornin'." Remy commented. "He an' Bel woke me up, yellin' 'bout it. What'd you say dis time?"

Emil averted his blue eyes, avoiding his friend's gaze. "What'd dey tell you?" he asked quietly.

"Somet'ing 'bout you sayin' de Assassins didn' want de unification an' dat dey're undermining it."

"Yeah, dat's pretty much right…" Emil faltered.

"Emil, you have to stop sayin' t'ings like dat! One of dese days, you're gon' get into serious trouble an' no one will be dere to help you out. You're jus' lucky Bella Donna was 'round dis mornin'." Remy said.

"So, what, I'm s'posed to jus' stop sayin' what I t'ink?"

Remy sighed for what seemed like the eight hundredth time that day. "Emil, dat's de problem. You say what you t'ink, but you don' t'ink b'fore you say it. You never stop to realize dat maybe what you're sayin' is gon' make someone mad. Like Gris, for instance."

Emil rolled his eyes. "Gris takes exception to everyt'ing."

"Oui…an' most of what he takes exception to comes out of your mouth, haven' you noticed?" Remy questioned with a raise of his eyebrows. "Look. Can you at jus' try to not say t'ings dat will upset him? I mean he's tried to kill you more times den I can remember, an' I don' want to see dat happen. C'mon, please try?"

Emil sighed. "Okay, okay, I'll try. I promise. Can' promise I'll get very far, mais, I'll try. Can I go back an' finish dat Scrabble game now?"

"Tryin' is all I ask. An' yeah, go finish de game. Hey, mind if I play too? I haven' played Scrabble in awhile."

"Non, I don' mind an' I'm sure Genard won' either. Hey Rem?"

Remy paused at the entrance of the living room. "Oui, Emil?"

"T'anks. I know I don' t'ink as much as I should sometimes, an' everyone gets mad at me more often den not, but you always try to overlook it even t'ough you don' have a reason to. I 'preciate it." Emil said, giving his friend a small smile.

"Emil, you're my best friend, de only real best friend I've ever had," Remy told him. "Dat's one of de reasons I overlook your sometimes out-of-control mouth. Now, come on, Genard's waitin'."

To Be Continued…


	2. Part Two

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Two

The next morning, Emil was in the kitchen of the safehouse, making pancakes for breakfast for himself and anyone who wanted them. He and the other guys made meals and did housework from time to time, because they thought it wasn't fair that the girls get stuck with the entire domestic thing. So there was Emil, up to his elbows in pancake batter, heating up a frying pan, when the last person he wanted to see came into the room.

Upon seeing Gris-Gris enter the room Emil groaned inwardly and rolled his eyes at the bowl of batter. Remembering his agreement with Remy to try and not piss Gris off, Emil merely gave the big man a half-smile and said,

"Mornin'. Want some pancakes?"

Gris-Gris raised an eyebrow and shook his head, crossing the room and getting himself a banana. "Non."

Emil shrugged. "Suit yourself. What're you guys doin' today?" He meant Gris and the other Assassins. In spite of the unification, the two groups still had a hard time just hanging out together, and they all still tended to stick with their own. From time to time, they had found they could work together, but both groups had different ways of doing things and sometimes those differences could be vast.

Gris glared at Emil and said sharply, "None of your business."

Emil raised his mixing spoon in a sign that he was backing down. "Okay, okay, I was jus' askin'."

"You talk too much." Gris-Gris commented before turning on his heel and heading back out of the kitchen, leaving Emil standing there, staring after him like he had just spoken Swahili.

He was still standing there, his pancakes forgotten, when Theoren entered the room. Theoren didn't have much of a sense of humor, but he had to chuckle when he saw Emil standing there, holding the mixing spoon, batter dripping on the floor and totally oblivious to the fact that the pancakes in the frying pan were starting to burn.

"Red. Hey Red. You're burnin' de pancakes. Snap out of it."

"Huh, what? OH!" Emil exclaimed, coming back out of his thoughts with a start and clueing in to what Theo had just told him. He grabbed the frying pan off the stove and tossed the burnt pancakes in the garbage.

Theoren just kept laughing. "What were you t'inkin' 'bout, anyways?"

"Jus' somet'ing Gris said a few minutes ago." Emil replied. "Theo, do I talk too much?"

"Well, compared to over half de people in dis Guild, oui. But you always have, it's not like it's somet'ing we all jus' noticed, compris?" Theoren replied. "But it might be somet'ing new to de Assassins b'cause dey haven' been 'round you all your life like de rest of us have. Did Gris say you talk too much?"

"Oui." Emil said quietly, pouring more batter into the pan and listening to it sizzle. None of the thieves were overly sensitive people, but they were human, and sometimes things bothered them. Emil had tried to be civil and nice to Gris, and the assassin had shot him down like a duck.

"An' dat bothered you?" Theoren asked, confused.

"Sort of. I mean, I said somet'ing dat pissed him off yesterday, an' if it wasn't for Bel, I don' know if I'd be here right now, mais, I talked to Remy afterwards an' I agreed to try not to say t'ings like dat anymore. So Gris came in here dis mornin' an' I was nice an' civil an' I didn' say a t'ing he could object to, but he was right short an' mean." Emil replied, concentrating on the frying pan, and not looking at his friend.

Theoren considered the information for a few minutes before saying anything else. "Kid, listen. You can' 'xpect Gris to be nice an' friendly to you right away. It isn' gon' happen like dat. Jus' keep workin' on it, an' maybe he'll come 'round eventually."

Emil sighed bitterly. "I hate dis unification."

"I know. I'm not too fond of it myself. But dere's not'ing we can do 'bout it, 'except deal wit' it de best way we can." Theo told him, taking some plates out of the cupboard as Mercy and Claude joined them, followed by Zoe and Genard.

"Where's Remy?" Zoe asked, putting glasses on the table as Claude got the forks and knives and Genard rooted through the cupboard for the maple syrup.

"He went for a walk," Mercy replied, taking the plate of pancakes Emil handed her over to the table. One by one, the group was sitting down, getting ready for breakfast. "He'll be back later."

The only one who didn't join them was Genard. He was sitting on the floor with his head stuck in a cupboard, still hunting down the elusive maple syrup.

"G, what are you doin?" Claude asked with a chuckle from his seat at the table.

"Lookin' for somet'ing…" came the muffled replied, followed by a loud "Ah-ha!" and then an "Ow!" as Genard moved too quickly an' banged his head on the top of the cupboard as he was getting up. He sat there, holding his head with one hand and triumphantly showing them the maple syrup with the other. "Can' have pancakes without dis."

"You're nuts, Genard. But are you okay?" Mercy asked, concern in her voice.

"Genard shoved his glasses up on his nose as he got up off the floor and nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine. Jus' hungry."

***

"We can' tell dem, Fifolet, you know dat." Gris-Gris said. 

Fifolet nodded, his long black hair falling into his face, his brown eyes dark and brooding. "Oui. Dey wouldn' understand. Dey don' understand us anyway. I don' see why we have to keep playin' dis unification game. You know none of us wants to do it. Even dey don'."

  
Gris sighed and glanced around to make sure they weren't been watched or eavesdropped on. "We have to keep playin' it 'cause Bella Donna says so. She wants it, or at least she t'inks she does. Personally, I jus' t'ink she wants to spend more time wit' LeBeau. She jus' hasn' figured dat out yet."

Fifolet laughed. "Well, you can be sure it won' work in de long run. Dere's only so much hangin' out wit' thieves dat we can do b'fore dey push us too far. 'Specially dat red-haired twit, Lapin."

"I will deal wit' him. I don' care what LeBeau says, de second Lapin says somet'ing else he shouldn', he's gon' get it. I'm outta patience wit' dat mouth of his."

"Remy won' be too happy if you do anyt'ing to Emil…dey're friends." Fifolet warned as they walked up the stairs of the safehouse. They wanted to get behind closed doors as quickly as possible to avoid talking to anyone other than the other assassins.

"If LeBeau has a problem, I'll deal wit' him too. He has no control of de assassins, an' if he t'inks he does, he's sadly mistaken. De unification does not given him de right to tell us what to do."

The two men knocked on one of the doors and waited. A muffled "C'min" told them to enter, so they did, and were greeted by Questa, their friend and fellow assassin.

"Well? How'd it go?" he asked.

"Check dis out." Fifolet said, pulling out a small bag from his pocket and tossing it to Questa.

Questa opened the bag and poured out the contents into his hand with a whistle. "Wow. Dese are some nice diamonds, guys, I'm impressed. Bel an' Singer will like dem."

"Oui, dey will make lovely necklaces and earrings for de girls, won' dey?" Gris commented. "An' it wasn' hard to get dem either. Of course, de two people who got in our way might have a different opinion…if dey actually _could_ have an opinion at dis point."

Earlier that day, Gris-Gris and Fifolet had gone into downtown New Orleans and entered a jewelry store they had scoped out a few days beforehand. The store was the only one in the city that carried unset diamonds, and that was what the two assassins were after. They didn't just want to have jewelry made for Bella Donna and Singer, but they also wanted to sell some of the diamonds on the Black Market. They could get a nice sum for them and they knew it only too well.

There were two people working in the store when the assassins went in. They attempted to stop the two big men from stealing them, but they were unsuccessful. Both Gris-Gris and Fifolet were trained killers, and it didn't take them long to put the two store employees out of commission, permanently. It was that information they wanted to keep from the thieves. The thieves, of course, wouldn't have a problem with the robbery itself. After all, the thieves stole more things than the assassins did. But the thieves didn't believe in killing people for any reason other then self-defense and they wouldn't approve of the fact that Gris and Fifolet had killed two people just because they were in the way during a job.

As the three assassins talked about the job and their feelings about the unification, they didn't realize the door of the room was still open slightly and that they were being listened to. Standing outside the door was the one person who could get himself killed if they caught him. He was also the person who might not be believed if he tried to tell anyone what he was hearing. He had been listening to Gris and Fifolet since they came home, in spite of Gris checking to make sure no one was around. Emil was very good at hiding and had managed to listen to almost the entire conversation between the assassins without getting caught.

Emil, deciding he had heard enough, silently slipped away from the doorway and went down the hall to his own room, thinking about the information he now had, and trying to figure out what to do about it. 

"I guess de only one I can tell if I have any hope of bein' b'lieved is Remy. But he isn' gon' like it. An' I'm not sure _I _like it either. I t'ink I have to start watchin' my back more den we t'ought." He said to himself as he sat on his bed to wait for Remy to come home so he could tell his friend what was going on.

To Be Continued…


	3. Part Three

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Three

Remy was walking down the second-floor hallway of the Guild safehouse two hours later when he suddenly heard his name being hissed from somewhere behind him. He turned around and looked to see where the voice was coming from. He saw Emil's head poking out of his bedroom.

"Remy! C'mere!" he whispered, beckoning for his friend to join him.

Remy went over to Emil and said, "What's goin' on, Emil?"

Emil looked both ways down the hall and grabbed Remy's arm, pulling him into the room. "Shhhh! Get in here!"

As Emil shut the door, Remy sat down. "Emil, what is it? Why all de secrecy? What is goin' on?"

Emil sighed and sat down across from his best friend. "If certain people find out dat I know certain t'ings…I could get dead."

"Huh?!" Remy demanded, shaking his head in confusion.

Emil took a deep breath and let it out slowly, attempting to collect his thoughts. "Okay," he said. "From de beginnin'. Dis mornin' I had a nice little talk wit' Gris, durin' which I didn' say a single t'ing to make him mad, an' he was hardly civil."

Remy smiled. "You'll never be his favorite person, ya know."

"Oui, dat's pretty much what Theoren said. Anyway, awhile later, Gris an' Fifolet went out for awhile, when dey came back, I hid in de closet an' listened to what dey were sayin'. When dey came up here an' were talkin' to Questa, dey didn' shut de door all de way. Needless to say I heard almost everyt'ing dey said. An' if dey find out, I'm dead."

Remy shook his head. "If it's not your mouth getting ya in trouble, it's somet'ing else. So, what were dey sayin'?"

"Among de t'ings dey were sayin' bout us an' de unification, dey robbed dat jewelry store downtown dat sells uncut gems. An' killed de two store employees in de process." Emil explained. 

Remy sighed. Like the rest of the thieves, he didn't like the way the assassins did things. He thought they could have at least just tied up the employees…there was no need to kill them. But he was more interested in the other things Emil had mentioned. "What'd dey say 'bout us? An' de unification?"

"In a nutshell, dey said dey were only goin' along wit' de unification b'cause Bel said so. Dey also said dey weren' gon' be able to pull it off much longer without hurtin' someone, namely me. Gris said dat he'd take care of me, an' dat if you tried to stop him, he'd take care of you too, b'cause he says you don' have any control over de assassins."

Remy sighed again. "What does he t'ink, I _asked_ for all dis? Unfortunately, I'm stuck here bein' Guild patriarch. Not b'cause I want to be, but because de job was given to me an' even de vote of confidence couldn' get me out of it."

Emil looked at Remy, his normally sparkly blue eyes swimming with concern and worry. "You _do_ b'lieve me, don' you?"

Remy frowned. "Of course I do. You've never lied to me in de entire time we've known each other, why wouldn' I b'lieve you?"

Emil smiled. "True. But what if de others don'?"

"Dey will, but we're not gon' tell dem 'bout it yet. It doesn' really concern dem at dis time. Jus' watch yourself, okay? Whatever you do, don' piss off Gris, 'specially if I'm not around to bail you out of it." Remy replied, getting up to leave. He paused at the door and looked at his friend. "Don' worry, Emil."

Emil raised his eyebrows. "Ha! Dat's easy for you to say. You're not de one havin' your life threatened by a six-foot-five voodoo master. Next t'ing I know, I'm gon' wake up some mornin' an' find out he's stickin' pins in a doll dat looks mysteriously like me!"

Remy just grinned and walked down the hall to his own room, thinking about the information Emil had told him, and picturing Gris-Gris sticking pins in a voodoo doll of Emil with a crazed lunatic look on his face. His laughter got the best of him and he was still chuckling over the mental imagery when he went to bed that night.

***

The next morning, Claude and Emil were sitting at the kitchen table, eating toast and cereal, when Fifolet entered the room. He nodded slightly at the two thieves and went over to open the fridge. Once his back was turned to them, Emil crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, making Claude laugh and choke on his toast.

Fifolet turned around at the sound and Claude was instantly serious, with an innocent expression on his face. He was turning red from the strain of trying not to laugh in the assassin's face, and he couldn't look either one of them directly or he'd lose it. Emil just sat there, placidly eating his breakfast like nothing was out of the ordinary.

Fifolet took the yogurt he had gotten from the fridge, and left the room, giving Claude a weird look as he passed. The second the kitchen door shut behind him, Claude burst out laughing…and promptly fell off his chair. He sat on the floor laughing hysterically until he felt that if he laughed any more he was going to come apart at the seams. 

Claude got back up on his chair and faced Emil, still chuckling. "You are bad! Don' _do_ dat!"

Emil gave an evil grin and raised on eyebrow. "Remy's got de eyes, I got de antics. Is it any wonder we're friends?"

Claude just shook his head. "You're gon' be de end of somebody…"

***

"I don' like dose t'ieves, Gris." Fifolet said, joining his friend in the living room.

Gris-Gris raised his eyebrows. "Lapin again?"

"No, actually, it was Claude. He was laughin' at me in de kitchen a few minutes ago but he tried to hide it. Not too successfully, I might add." Fifolet replied.

Gris sighed. "Dis unification is gon' be de end of de assassins. I don' know how much longer we're gon' be able to take dis crap from dem. I don' like bein' made a fool of, an' I know de rest of you don' either."

Fifolet was silent for a few moments and then his dark eyes widened with an evil gleam. He smiled wickedly at Gris and said,

"Go get Questa. I have an idea. Dose stupid t'ieves need to be taught a lesson, an' I t'ink I know jus' how to teach 'em."

"I like where dis is goin'…" Gris said, returning the smile and getting up to go find their partner in crime.

To Be Continued…


	4. Part Four

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Four

"I don' t'ink I like de look of dat." Mercy commented as she and Zoe watched the three assassins hastily walk down the hallway. The three men looked like they were hiding something, and in all probability, Mercy knew the chances of that were great.

Zoe nodded. "I don't either. They are up to something. Perhaps we should look into it? We can't be too careful, I believe the peace is a very fragile thing."

Mercy turned to her friend as the assassins went into Fifolet's room and shut the door behind them. "I t'ink maybe we should tell Remy. He'll know what to do."

Zoe followed Mercy down the hallway. She saw things a little differently than Mercy and the other thieves, because she was a newcomer of sorts. She had originally been a member of the Thieves Guild of Tokyo, and had only joined the New Orleans Guild a short while before the unification took place. Her reasons for leaving Japan were simple. She had been excommunicated from the Guild because she saved her mutant brother from being exploited by the Guild. She fit in with the New Orleans thieves somewhat, but they were different from her and she wasn't oblivious to the differences.

Zoe sighed slightly as Mercy paused outside the door to Remy's room and knocked on it. In all reality, Zoe herself didn't think of the assassins as mortal enemies, she thought maybe the two guilds could work together as a team if they'd only allow themselves the chance. Remy might feel that way too, Zoe couldn't be sure, because like her, Remy was technically an outsider. 

On the other hand, Theoren, Claude, Mercy, Genard and Emil were all direct descendents from original members of the New Orleans Thieves Guild, and they took their feelings about the assassins very seriously. They accepted the unification because it was something they couldn't get around. They believed what Jean-Luc and Tante Mattie had always told them about the prophecies, and they agreed to it, but they didn't like it, and if the assassins were attempting to override the unification somehow, they would do whatever they could to defend themselves against their enemies.

"Come in." Remy's voice said from behind the door. Mercy opened it and the two women went inside.

"Sorry to bother you, Rem, but we wanted to tell you somet'ing." Mercy said. "We t'ink de assassins are up to no good."

"What're dey doin'?" Remy asked, motioning for his sister-in-law and friend to sit down.

"Well, we don' know, for sure, mais, dey're being awful secretive 'bout somet'ing." Mercy told him. "It's jus' Gris, Fifolet an' Questa. I don' t'ink Bel an' Singer are involved. I t'ought maybe you should look into it. Dey are hidin' somet'ing, an' normally when dey're hidin' somet'ing, it's not good for de t'ieves." 

"I'll keep an eye open, but I've got other t'ings to worry 'bout right now. I'm sure Bel will take care of it if dey _are_ up to somet'ing." Remy assured them. He didn't want to tell them that the things he had to worry about concerned Emil and the assassins; there was no need to worry Mercy. He knew if Mercy found out Gris-Gris was threatening Emil, she'd get worried. She may have looked like she wasn't a day older than Remy and Emil, but in reality, she was fifty years old, and was closer in age to Theoren and Claude. She tended to think like a mother when it came to the younger Guild members. It wasn't a bad thing, but it _did _get on their nerves from time to time.

Mercy and Remy continued to talk, but Zoe excused herself and went in search of something else to do. She decided to go for a walk, and when she walked past the living room, she saw Genard sitting on the edge of the couch, bent over to the coffee table, muttering under his breath as he tried to fix his glasses with screwdrivers that were too small to handle.

Zoe took a detour into the living room and sat down beside him, giggling as he continued to curse the fact that he couldn't fix his glasses. "Do you want some help?" she asked.

Genard sighed and turned to her, wishing he could see her clearly. "Would you mind? I could probably do dis myself if I could see what I was doin'. Dat, an' de fact dat dese foolish screwdrivers were made for someone wit' hands de size of a mouse."

Zoe took the glasses from Genard and studied them. "What happened to them?"

"Oh de frames get loose an' de lenses pop out. It happens all de time. From time to time, I actually manage to fix 'em myself, or else one of de others does it for me."

"I see. Well, today, it's me." Zoe told him with a smile as she searched for the correct screwdriver. "Where's the screw?"

"Right here." Genard handed her the tiny screw and tried to watch as she put it in place and screwed it tight. Before he knew it, she had handed the glasses back to him and said,

"Here you go, good as new."

Genard put the glasses on and smiled at her in return. "T'anks Zoe. It prob'ly woulda taken me a year to fix 'em myself."

"Don't mention it. I was just on my way out for a walk, would you like to join me? I wouldn't mind the company."

Genard flashed the young Japanese thief a surprised look. Zoe was the youngest member of the Guild, a year younger than Remy and Emil, and she never really tried to connect with any of them, let alone him. She was a member of the Guild, but Genard knew that her not being from New Orleans and not having any real ties to the Guild made it difficult for her to fit in. Genard silently wondered why she was asking him to join her, when Emil and Remy were closer to her in age. He figured she'd be more likely to hang out with them, but maybe he was wrong. 

"Sure, I'll go wit' you, if you want. Any particular destination?" he said, keeping his questions to himself.

"No, I just feel like getting out of this house for a little while, you know? The tension is starting to get to me."

The two thieves left the safehouse and started walking, Genard letting Zoe pick the direction. They walked in silence for a few minutes, and then Genard said, 

"You don' feel like you fit in most of de time, do you?"

Zoe cast a quick glance at him, but he wasn't really looking at her. "I don't fit in. I _am_ a thief, and I _am_ a member of the Guild, but I'm _not_ one of you. I'm just lucky, I guess, that Jean-Luc decided to let me in the Guild, but sometimes I think maybe I should have stayed in Japan."

Genard raised an eyebrow and stopped walking. "Do you wish you had?"

Zoe paused and turned to look at him. "No. I like it here even if I don't fit in all that well. I don't understand everything, but you and the others treat me like I belong, and I don't want to throw that away."

"I don' blame you. But isn' it hard sometimes, bein' 'round de rest of us?"

"It can be, but I try not to worry about it much. You guys are a unique bunch. Kinda like the Guild members in Tokyo."

"Guess it comes from bein' t'ieves."

"Maybe so."

***

Back at the safehouse, Emil was walking down the hallway to his room, minding his own business, when Fifolet stuck his head out one of the doorways. "Hey Lapin. Come here for a sec."

Emil paused and looked at the assassin with a curious but wary expression on his pale face, a question in his blue eyes. He decided to voice the question. "What d'you want?"

"I wan' show you somet'ing, come here." Fifolet insisted.

Emil stayed where he was in the hallway. He didn't like the look he saw on Fifolet's face, and he didn't trust the man as far as he could throw him, which wasn't far. He knew something was going on, and he wasn't too keen on being anywhere near any assassin if he was by himself. He was a computer specialist, not much of a fighter, although he could fight fairly well if he had to. It was all part of his training. "Why don' you show me what it is from dere, an' I'll stay here?" he asked lightly, trying not to give his uneasiness away, wondering if he was successful.

Fifolet looked at him. "Oh I can' do dat. You know, someone might see what I have to show you an' we can' have dat. So are you gon' come here or not?"

"Nope." Emil replied shortly. 

Fifolet pulled an innocent, hurt expression out of his reserve of fake expressions and pouted. He was a very good actor when he wanted to be. "What, you don' trust me? C'mon, Lapin, what have I ever done to make you distrust me?"

"You want a list?" Emil asked. "I'm sure I could t'ink of at least five t'ings."

Fifolet sighed. "Whatever. Fine. But if your curiosity gets de best of you an' you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Well I doubt I will, but I'll keep it in mind." Emil said, turning on his heel and walking down the hallway to his own room. Once in his room he leaned against the door and breathed a sigh of relief. His instincts had told him that Fifolet wasn't alone in that room and that he did the right thing in not taking the assassin up on his offer. Something was going on. He just didn't know what.

Fifolet shut the door and turned to Gris and Questa with a shake of his head.

Gris-Gris groaned. "He didn' fall for it? Damn. We'll jus' have to keep workin' on him. If we can' get him, we'll have to try for Alouette. Marceaux and Potier are too smart to get caught."

"What are we gon' do when we catch dem, Gris?" Questa asked, flipping through a magazine.

Fifolet laughed. "When we catch, dem, Questa, mon ami, we're gon' have a little fun wit' dem. An' no one will be able to stop us. We won' go too far, of course, b'cause we can' get our _dear _patriarch angry wit' us, mais dey will get a lesson dey soon won' forget."

To Be Continued…


	5. Part Five

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Five

Questa turned away from the window with a smile. "Genard an' Zoe are comin' back."

Gris-Gris returned the smile. "Good."

Genard and Zoe, laughing over a joke Genard had told, entered the safehouse and went their separate ways. Zoe headed to the kitchen to get something to eat, and Genard went upstairs with the intention of looking for Emil. He needed his friend to look something up on the computer for him. Genard was a smart man, but he wasn't very computer literate. He usually left that kind of thing up to Emil or Theoren.

Genard was about to knock on Emil's bedroom door when he heard his name being called from down the hall. He turned to where the voice was calling from, and groaned. It was Gris-Gris. He walked down the hall towards the assassin and said,

"What's up, Gris?"

Gris gave his most charming smile. "Come in here for a moment. I have something I want to show you."

Genard paused about five feet from where Gris-Gris was. He didn't trust the assassin, and wasn't about to ignore the alarm going off in his head. "Can' you show it to me out here?"

"Non, non, dat would never do. I can' let jus' anyone see it."

There was something in Gris' eyes and voice that made the alarm in Genard's head start clanging with five-star urgency. Something was up. "Well, y'know, I'm sure it's really great, whatever it is, but I'm kinda in a hurry, so if you'll excuse me…" he said, turning away and going back to Emil's room, where he knocked on the door and waved at Gris briefly before entering the room.

***

"Okay, what's goin' on wit' dose blasted assassins?" Genard demanded when he was safely in Emil's room.

"Did one of 'em try to railroad you into going and 'seein' somet'ing' in Fifolet's room?" Emil asked.

"Yeah! You too?"

"Yeah. I don' trust 'em. Do you?"

Genard snorted. "Hell no. Dey are definitely up to somet'ing, I jus' wish I knew what it was."

"Maybe we should be careful…I have a feelin' dey're not gon' let our turnin' dem down stop dem from tryin' again." Emil suggested.

"Good idea. Now, in de meantime, can you look up somet'ing for me on de computer? I need some information."

Emil rolled his eyes and grinned. "One of dese days, I'm gon' teach you how to do dis for yourself, mon ami. But oui, I'll look up whatever you need."

"T'anks."

***

Three hours later, Emil and Genard left Emil's room and went downstairs to the kitchen. It was dinnertime, but amazingly, there was no one to be found. The two thieves went around, looking in the living room and the library and various other rooms in the house, but everyone was apparently gone.

Genard frowned at his friend. "Where'd everyone go?"

Emil shrugged. "You know as much as I do…I've been in de same place you were for de past three hours."

They went back to the kitchen. "Well, since de others obviously went somewhere for dinner an' forgot to tell us, we may as well fend for ourselves." Genard said. "What d'you want, hot dogs, frozen pizza, macaroni and cheese?"

Emil pulled a take out menu for a Chinese restaurant off the bulletin board and waved it in Genard's face. With matching grins, they said in unison, "Chinese take-out!"

Twenty-five minutes later there were six different cartons of Chinese food on the kitchen table and the two thieves were having a grand old time eating and joking around. They stopped suddenly when they heard a sound coming from the living room. 

Genard raised an eyebrow. "I didn' t'ink anyone was home but us." He whispered.

"Me neither." Emil whispered back. "I got a bad feelin' 'bout dis, G."

Emil's bad feeling was justified all of a sudden, when they looked up to find three men they really didn't want to see standing in the doorway.

"Well, well, well." Gris-Gris said, a nasty tinge to his voice. "What have we here, boys? Looks to me like we weren' invited to de party. An' I don' know 'bout you, but I don' t'ink it was very nice of our two t'ief friends here to exclude us like dat. What do you s'pose we should do 'bout dis?"

Questa took a switchblade out of his pocket and flipped it open, revealing a shiny ten-inch blade. Genard and Emil didn't have to guess that it was razor sharp. They already knew it was. Fifolet followed his example, revealing a long sword. He smiled evilly at the two thieves and answered his friend's question.

"I'm sure we can t'ink of somet'ing, Gris."

Emil and Genard cast each other quick looks. They knew they could at least try to defend themselves, but they had a feeling that no matter how _well_ they defended themselves, they were going to lose this fight. They weren't the assassins after all, and while they did know how to fight, they weren't prepared to fight three trained killers.

"Now, now, Gris, can we talk 'bout dis?" Emil asked in a fake cheerful voice.

Gris-Gris walked across the room, making the most of his six-foot-five stature. With one of his large black hands, he grabbed Emil by the neck and lifted the red-haired thief off his chair, slamming him against the wall, choking him.

"You talk too much, Lapin. I b'lieve I told you dat b'fore."

"Uh…yeah…I t'ink you…mentioned it…I'll…uh…I'll shut up now." Emil replied, struggling to breathe 

"You have no idea, you little punk." Gris said with an evil laugh, tightening his grip on Emil's neck.

"Let him go!" Genard demanded, jumping to his feet, ready to move to stop Gris-Gris. Instead, he was stopped himself. He froze when he felt the blade of Questa's knife at his own throat.

"Don' t'ink you're in much of a position to make us do anyt'ing, Alouette, sorry. Ain' no one gon' stop us." Fifolet chuckled, moving over and using the tip of his sword to take Genard's glasses off his face.

By this point, the two thieves were starting to seriously panic. Emil was having a very hard time breathing, and felt like his head was going to pop off if Gris kept squeezing like he was. Genard was trying to catch his own breath, which was coming in short spurts. He knew he was no match for two blade-wielding assassins. He cast a quick glance at Emil and saw that his friend's face was turning blue.

"C'mon, Gris, let him down. If you're gon' beat us up, den get on wit' it, but for God's sake, let him down." Genard pleaded on Emil's behalf.

"Let him down, huh? Okay. If you say so." Gris-Gris replied. Still holding Emil's neck, he pulled the thief away from the wall and threw him across the kitchen. Emil, gasping for breath, groaned in pain as he hit the fridge. He was still gasping as he watched Gris coming towards him, pulling a knife out of his pocket.

Genard decided to take a bit of a risk and grabbed Questa's arm, pulling the knife away from his neck and smashing it against the table, causing Questa to drop the knife. Fifolet swung his sword towards Genard's head, but Genard dodged and ended up with a large gash on his arm. The two assassins lunged after Genard, but Genard had gotten his glasses on again and he dashed to the other side of the table, bleeding all over the place. He tried to keep the table between him and them and they were stuck in a deadlock when there was a loud "Ahem!" from the doorway.

Gris-Gris looked up from his position above Emil. He was holding his knife at Emil's throat and was about to do some serious damage to the young thief, when the voice interrupted. Fifolet and Questa paused and turned around. Both Emil and Genard sighed with relief. 

Standing in the doorway was a very angry-looking Remy. Rather than tell the three assassins to put their weapons down, he merely charged the knives and sword with biokinetic energy and watched them blow up. He pointed at Gris, Fifolet and Questa one at a time, and then pointed at the living room. 

  
"I wan' talk to de three of you. You can wait for me in de livin' room. I won' be long. Go."

As the three assassins filed out of the room, Genard went over to where Emil was still on the floor, gasping, and helped him to his feet.

Remy looked at his two friends with concern in his face. "Are you two okay?" 

Genard looked at his steadily bleeding arm. "Well, I'm bleedin' like a stuck pig, an' Emil here jus' 'bout got his head snapped off, but I t'ink we'll make it. I'll jus' have to go see Tante Mattie 'bout dis."

"Any idea why dey did it?"

"We were eatin'. We weren' _doin'_ anyt'ing." Emil replied, rubbing his neck. "Dey jus' came in an' got all mad dat we didn' invite dem to join us for Chinese food. But we t'ink dey were up to somet'ing earlier."

Remy frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Dey kept tryin' to get de two of us to go into Fifolet's room to apparently see somet'ing. Dey wouldn' take whatever _it_ was out of the room, an' I'm getting de impression dey really wanted to get us into de room so dey could beat us up." Genard explained.

Remy sighed. This whole thing was just insane. He didn't understand why the assassins were making it so hard for the unification to work. "I really gotta talk to Bel 'bout all dis. It's getting out of hand. But first, I have to straighten dose three out." He said, more to himself than to his friends. Remembering what Emil had said the other day, he sighed again. Getting the assassins under control was not going to be an easy task, he just hoped Bella Donna would be up to helping him with it.

If she wasn't, things could start to get really ugly.

To Be Continued…


	6. Part Six

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Six

"Bella Donna, we have to talk." Remy said.

Bel looked up from the book she was reading. "Well hello to you too. You ever hear of knocking?"

Remy shut the door and sat down on the chair at Bel's desk. "I'm serious, Bel. We have a problem."

"When do we ever _not_ have a problem, Remy? Look who you're talkin' 'bout." Bella Donna replied, putting down the book and looking at him.

"Oui, I know. But dis isn' jus' a normal problem, Bel. It's a problem dat needs de attention of both of us, _now_." Remy sighed. "I hate to tell you dis, it's only gon' make you mad, prob'ly at me, mais, I can' get 'round it. I walked into de kitchen a few minutes ago an' I found Gris, Fifolet an' Questa tryin' to kill Genard an' Emil. Now, I don' know 'bout you, but _I_ t'ink dat's a problem!"'

Bella Donna looked at her ex-husband and sighed. "What d'you want me to do, talk to dem?" 

"I don' know, I guess so. I already talked to dem, but I'm getting de impression dey're not gon' listen to me. Maybe dey'll listen to you. De bottom line is, I don' want what happened today to happen again." 

"I'll do what I can, mais I can' really promise much." Bel told him with a smile. To an extent the blonde-haired assassin still loved Remy, and she would do what she could to help him even if it wasn't easy.

"T'anks Bel. Even a little bit's better den not'ing."

After Remy left the room again, Bella Donna sat on her bed for a long while, lost in thought. Things had been touch-and-go in the Guild since the unification, and convincing the assassins to leave the thieves alone was going to be easier said than done. She knew how the assassins thought, being one herself, and she knew they got a weird sort of pleasure out of beating up on the thieves, especially Emil, because he often instigated it himself, giving them an excuse.

Bel also knew the assassins didn't like the unification and were only going along with the truce because she asked them to. The thieves knew this as well, somewhat, and they tried to keep the peace as best they could. While Bella Donna herself, as well as Singer, tried to do this as well, knowing it was in the best interests of the Guild, the three male assassins, Gris, Fifolet and Questa, had a hard time with it.

The rivalry, the hatred, between the thieves and the assassins had been part of their way of life for over a century. Bel knew it was unthinkable and unrealistic for anyone to assume that just because the two Guilds had joined into one, they would automatically lay their differences aside and be friends. Bel knew they would never truly be friends; the assassins had done too many bad things to the thieves in the past for the thieves to go along with anything other than a fragile truce.

Bella Donna sighed and got up off her bed, intending to go and talk with the other assassins about how they were going to make it a new rule not to hurt the thieves. "Dis is _so_ not gon' be easy…" she said softly to the ceiling before she left her room.

***

While Bella Donna was looking for the assassins, the thieves (minus Genard and Emil, who were at Tante Mattie's house) were gathered in Mercy's room, discussing what was going on. Needless to say they weren't all that impressed with the events or with the assassins themselves. 

"I can' b'lieve dey did dat!" Theoren exclaimed. "Dis Guild isn' s'posed to be tryin' to kill each other!"

"We're tryin' so hard to make dis unification work, an' it's startin' to look like we shouldn' even be botherin' wit' it. _Dey_ obviously don' want it." Claude commented.

"You t'ink it's obvious to you, you should try bein' us for day." Genard joked as he and Emil joined them. "We don' know what we did, exactly, but dey really don' like us!"

Emil was strangely quiet; he just sat down by Mercy and wrapped his arms around himself, silent. It was hard for his friends to read the look in his eyes, but he didn't really want them to anyway. He was hurting, physically and emotionally, and he didn't want to talk about it. He knew the others could see the dark purple bruises on either side of his neck from where Gris tried to strangle him. They couldn't be hidden. What his friends couldn't see were the massive bruise on his back and the three cracked ribs, which were the result of his getting thrown across the room and hitting the refrigerator.

Mercy felt the hurt vibe radiating from her young friend and put her arm across his shoulders, giving him a little squeeze. He let out a pained sigh that seemed to come all the way from the tips of his toes, turned and gave her a faint but grateful smile.

Genard, aside from the gash on his arm that he knew was going to leave a scar, was fine, just a little angry at what had happened. He knew Emil was much more hurt than he was letting on, and that made him angry too. Like the others, he was starting to get more than a little angry that Gris kept singling Emil out the way he did. Sure, they all knew that over half the time, Emil started it by saying something stupid, but Gris really took things too far and it bothered them.

"So are we going to get them back for this, or what?" Zoe asked. "I mean, they're not going to get away with it, are they?"

Genard shrugged. "Remy said he'd talk to dem, an' I know he's getting Bel involved, but dat's it as far as I know."

"I don' t'ink dat's enough." Mercy commented, keeping her arm protectively around Emil.

"We can' do anyt'ing else. If we do, we'll jus' be stoopin' to deir level, an' dat would make us no better den dey are. An' we know we _are_ better den dem." Theoren said.

"Dat's true." Claude replied thoughtfully. "I jus' hope Remy an' Bel can make dem smarten up. If dey can', I t'ink we should stage a revolution an' break 'way from dis unification. For our own safety if for not'ing else."

***

A little while later, the thieves broke up their meeting, deciding it would be better to get a good night's sleep before finding out what kind of luck Bella Donna had had in getting the assassins to back off. Emil had remained silent for the duration of the meeting, resting his head on Mercy's shoulder and listening to what was being said around him. When the meeting broke up, he slid off the bed and followed Genard and Zoe out of the room, still silent. The only sound he made was a slight groan at the pain moving caused his back and ribs.

The door closed behind him with a soft click. Theoren, Claude and Mercy sat there and looked at each other, matching looks of worry and concern on their faces.

"I don' t'ink he can take much more of dis…" Mercy commented quietly, tracing the pattern on her bedspread with her finger. 

Theoren glared at the ceiling. "If Gris lays on more hand on dat kid, I swear, I'll give him reason to wish he was dead. True, Emil can be obnoxious, but he does _not_ deserve to be treated de way Gris has been treatin' him."

"I'm worried 'bout him." Claude said simply. "I t'ink dis whole t'ing wit' Gris has been takin' more of a toll on him den any of us realized."

"He looks tired. More tired den a kid his age should look." Theoren said.

"He needs us, guys. Whether he'll talk about what's goin' on in his head or not, he needs us." Mercy instructed. "It's up to us to take care of him, now dat Jean-Luc's gone. You know after Emil's family was killed, Jean-Luc always took care of him. Now it's our turn."

"Maybe we should go see if he's okay…" Claude returned.

***

The room was dark. This made sense; it was nighttime and the lights were off. Emil had turned them off for a reason. He wanted to go to sleep. However, he was starting to think that wasn't going to happen. He sat on his bed, face buried in his hands, back and ribs aching with every movement, tears running down his cheeks.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting like that; nor did he know when he was going to be able to stop crying. He felt so helpless, so alone. He didn't know what else to do. In his desperation the tears just came, and he welcomed them, trying to find solace in the fact that he could at least comfort himself.

The door opened and closed again, but Emil didn't notice. He continued to think he was alone in his dark room until he felt the three other thieves around him on the bed. Claude flicked on the lamp on the table beside the bed and gave Emil a lopsided grin.

"Hey there, kiddo." He said, reaching over and wiping a tear off Emil's cheek. 

Theoren and Mercy, one on either side of Emil, wrapped their arms around their shaking friend and held him, trying to calm him.

Emil, valiantly attempting to catch his breath and control his tears, looked at his three friends through his water-logged blue eyes and sniffled through his sobs,

"I…can'…do dis any…more…I can'…take it…I jus' can'."

"Shhhh…" Mercy soothed, running a hand through Emil's thick red hair, looking at Theoren and Claude over his head. He was emotionally and physically drained from what had been happening, they all saw that now.

Theoren, feeling an immense hatred for Gris that he had never felt before, pulled Emil closer to him and did his best to say something that would comfort the young thief.

"Emil, we're here, kid. We're not gon' leave you. An' if we have any say in de matter, you'll never have to take any of dat nonsense from Gris or anyone else again. I promise."

Emil smiled slightly at what Theoren said, but the smile faded quickly as the tears started up again. He was just so tired of it all. Sobbing quietly, he sunk against Theo's chest in a silent plea for help, unaware that his three friends were sitting there wondering if they were going to be able to help him without killing a certain member of the assassins guild.

To Be Continued…


	7. Part Seven

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Seven

"You ever get de feeling dat Remy's brainwashin' Bel?" Fifolet asked as he, Gris-Gris and Questa sat around Gris' room after Bella Donna left. They had the door open a couple of inches, mainly because it was late at night, and they didn't think anyone else in the house was still awake. They were unaware that just down the hall, Theoren, Claude and Mercy were doing their best to comfort a very hurt and distraught Emil.

"I don' like it. First, we get yelled at by LeBeau, den Bel comes an' tells us to back off de t'ieves." Gris commented. "I don' know 'bout brainwashin', but it doesn' matter. I'm sick of dis unification. I don' t'ink we should have to change our ways jus' for de sake of de prophecies."

"What're we goin' do 'bout it?" Questa asked.

"Sleep on it. In de mornin', we'll talk to Bel an' Singer. We can come up wit' a plan from dere. It's not like we seriously hurt dem." Fifolet replied.

"De whole point to what we did was to scare 'em, make 'em realize we're still not deir friends, no matter how long de unification lasts." Questa said. "Oui, dey got roughed up a bit, but we didn' have any intention to really hurt dem."

"Speak for yourself." Gris said shortly.

"You mean you intended on hurtin' Emil?" Fifolet was aghast.

Gris looked at his two friends squarely. "Lapin is a brat who doesn' d'serve to be alive. Oui, I intended on hurtin' him more den I got a chance to."

Mercy, who had left Emil's room with the intent of going to bed, had paused unseen outside the door of Gris' room and heard the last bit of the conversation. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she realized that Emil was really very lucky. If Remy hadn't shown up when he had…Mercy didn't want to think about what might have happened. She hurried silently to her bedroom and laid awake in bed for a long time, thinking about the unification and how upset Emil was over the things that had been going on. She was starting to think bringing the two guilds together hadn't been such a good idea in the first place.

Down the hall in Emil's room, Claude gave Theoren a half-hearted smile and whispered,

"Theo."

Theoren looked at his friend and tilted his head questioningly. "What?" he whispered back. Neither one of them wanted to disturb Emil.

"I t'ink you can put him down now." Claude said.

Sure enough, when Theoren looked down at Emil, the young thief had finally fallen asleep, using Theo's chest as a pillow, his tear-stained cheeks still damp. Theoren sighed softly, and shifted to put Emil down. He didn't move off the bed, he had no intention of leaving Emil alone that night. Instead, he remained sitting there, leaning against the wall.

Claude raised an eyebrow. "You stayin'?"

Theoren nodded. "Yeah. For awhile anyway."

"Okay. Any idea what we're going to do in de mornin'?" Claude asked.

"Not yet. I do know we have to tell Remy, Genard an' Zoe…an'…"

"An' what?" Claude questioned, pausing at the door.

"Not'ing. 'Night." Theoren replied, giving his friend a smile.

"'Night."

The door shut behind Claude and Theoren was alone in the room, sitting on the bed beside Emil, who, in spite of finally being asleep, didn't look at all peaceful. Theoren looked down at his friend and sighed again.

"I won' let you down, kid. I promise." He whispered softly before leaning his head back and closing his eyes to try and get some sleep himself. The next day was going to be a hard one and he was going to need all the rest he could get.

***

Early the next morning, Theoren left Emil's room and went down to the kitchen to make some coffee. He hadn't gotten much sleep, but it wasn't because of Emil. Theoren couldn't sleep because he was angry, and his anger simmered all night. He had to admit to himself as he waited for the coffee to brew that he was seriously considering killing Gris-Gris.

"I'm a t'ief, not an assassin. I don' b'lieve in killin' people. But dat man makes me so angry…I jus' hope someone stops me…" He muttered under his breath.

The kitchen door opened and closed again. Theoren automatically turned to see who was joining him and just about dropped his coffee mug. Coming towards him with a somewhat smug look on his face, was Gris.

'Heaven grant me de strength…' Theo silently prayed. He said nothing aloud. He didn't want to start any conversation with the assassin. If Gris had something to say, or if he wanted Theoren to say something, then Gris was just going to have to start the conversation himself.

"I s'pose you know 'bout what happened yesterday?" Gris questioned lightly, his tone making it obvious to Theoren that he wasn't sorry for what had happened.

Theoren glanced at Gris and raised an eyebrow slightly. "Oui."

"De kid's been askin' for it, ya know." Gris commented, still lightly. He had a feeling that Theoren was angry with him and wanted to see how far he could push him.

"Dat kid doesn' ask for anyt'ing an' if you knew him half as well as de rest of us do, you'd know dat." Theoren said, keeping his voice low.

"He's an obnoxious little brat an' I don' like him. He needed to be taught a lesson. Since you t'ieves don' seem to want to teach him dat lesson, I took it upon myself to do it for you. An' I'd do it again too, in a flash. I _will_ do it again, if he ever says another obnoxious t'ing to me." 

Theoren's memory flashed back to the night before, and he thought of the desperately unhappy and exhausted Emil, who was so close to the edge of an emotional breakdown Theoren didn't know if they'd be able to get to him in time. The anger that had been simmering under the surface all night suddenly rose to the top and Theoren gave Gris-Gris the fiercest glare he could manage, which was a pretty fierce one, considering the circumstances.

Gris backed up a step when he saw the look on Theoren's face. Gris was by no means afraid of the thief, but he was starting to think that maybe he'd made a mistake in talking to Theoren just then.

Theoren was a good five inches shorter than Gris, but he could make the most of his six-foot frame when he had to and right then, he was furious beyond anything he'd ever felt before. He decided to give the assassin a dose of his own medicine and walked over to where Gris was standing. He literally shoved Gris up against the and said in a quiet voice that could only be described as deadly,

"If you ever so much as lay one finger on dat boy again, I swear I'll kill you so fast you won' know what hit you. Consider dis your first an' last warnin'. I _won'_ tell you again. Leave him alone."

Gris was astonished. In the first place, Gris had not figured Theoren to be as strong as it was now obvious he was. Appearances could indeed be deceiving. And in the second place, no one, especially no thief, had ever threatened Gris with quite that much authority before. He honestly didn't know what to say, although Theoren's threat really did nothing except make him angry.

Gris looked down at Theoren with hatred showing plainly in his dark eyes and face. "I'll do whatever I want to, Marceaux, an' neither you nor anyone else will stop me." he said before turning on his heel and walking out of the room. 

The venom dripping from Gris' voice caused Theoren to do a double take and he stood there for a long time after Gris had left the room, his coffee forgotten, staring at the door. He sighed as he realized that things just might have gotten worse.

"God help us all…" he prayed.

To Be Continued…


	8. Part Eight

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Eight

Remy walked into the kitchen and found Theoren still standing there, holding a forgotten cup of coffee, staring at the door.

"Theo?" Remy asked, waving his hand in front of Theoren's face. "Hello? Anybody home in dere?"

Theoren blinked and shook his head slightly. "God, how long have I been standin' here?" he muttered.

Remy chuckled. "I don' know, mon ami, I jus' got here. What's goin' on?"

Theoren looked at Remy sharply, and tried to figure out what he should tell Remy. His mind raced and he realized that he couldn't avoid telling Remy what was going on with Emil. Remy and Emil were best friends, and Remy had a right to know the details. He sighed.

"Remy, sit down, we have to talk." Theoren said. The two men sat across from each other at the kitchen table and Remy gave Theoren a curious look.

"Okay. What's dis 'bout, Theoren?"

"It's 'bout Emil." Theoren replied, sighing again when he saw the shocked, concerned look on Remy's face.

"Emil? Is he okay?"

"No. He's not, Remy. I don' know how long he hasn' been, but he isn'. I'm sorry to say I don' think any of us has been payin' enough attention since de unification, mais if it's not too late, I plan on payin' a lot more attention in de future." Theoren said.

Remy frowned. "Theo, what's goin' on? Why are you sittin' here tellin' me he's not okay? What's wrong wit' him? Why isn' he okay?"

"Remy, he's tired. He's emotionally an' physically exhausted. All dis stuff wit' Gris…he's been pretendin' dat it doesn' bother him, but it _does_. An' it has to stop." Theoren got up and went over to look out the window, trying to gather his thoughts. "Remy, he's so close to de breakin' point, it's scary. Last night…God, Remy, last night was a huge eye opener. You kind of had to be dere, I guess, but it was unreal. I was wit' him for most of de night. Mercy an' Claude were dere for a lot of it too."

"Is he still in bed now?" Remy asked, getting up and joining Theoren at the window, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Oui. He's in rough shape, Remy. He's gon' need us, an' I don' t'ink he can ask for our help. Gris needs to be stopped. He has to be prevented from ever hurting Emil again, period. Remy…promise me somet'ing, would you?" Theoren asked suddenly, turning and facing his friend.

Remy smiled stiffly. He was very worried about Emil, and it showed in his face. "Anyt'ing, Theo. What is it?"

"I'm so angry at Gris for what he's done…I'm seriously t'inkin' of killin' him. I need you to promise me you won' let me do it."

"Theoren, you don' need me to make dat promise. You already know you won' do it. You might beat de crap outta him, an' can I watch if you do? But you'll stop yourself from killin' him, b'cause while he might d'serve it, killin' people isn' de way we do t'ings. It's not de way _you_ do t'ings. If it makes you feel better, oui, I promise, but I don' t'ink it's necessary."

Theoren started laughing. "I jus' realized why Jean-Luc put you in charge of de Guild. An' yeah, you can watch. Hell, you can help if you want to. I'm gon' go tell Genard an' Zoe what's goin' on. Maybe you should go see Emil. Jus' don' be shocked if he isn' his normal cheerful, upbeat self."

***

Remy found himself looking at Emil for a few minutes before he actually woke his friend up. Theoren was right, Remy realized. Emil wasn't in good shape. Even though the red-haired young man was asleep, Remy could see the pain, exhaustion and desperation in his face.

'No wonder Theo's so angry…how could we not see dis comin'?' Remy thought, pulling the chair over beside the bed and sitting down. The sound of the chair moving across the floor woke Emil up and he looked at his friend. His blue eyes, which were usually bright and laughing, were dull and listless. He pulled himself into a sitting position in the bed and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his chin on his knees.

"You were talkin' to Theo, weren' you?" 

"Yeah. He's worried 'bout you. Dey all are, an' so am I. Emil, why didn' you tell us all de problems you've been havin' with Gris have been botherin' you?"

Emil straightened up and looked at Remy directly, tears welling up in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. "B'cause I'm Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky computer genius, an' not'ing's ever s'posed to bother me. Dat's de way it's always been, dat's de way it's s'posed to be an' I'm tired of it. I'm tired of Gris beatin' me up, an' I'm tired of pretending dat it doesn' bother me. I feel like I've got absolutely not'ing goin' for me, I feel like I'm alone an' de only person who can save me is me but I don' know how. I feel like I'm losin' my mind an' you know what?"

Remy moved from the chair to the bed, sitting beside Emil and putting his arm around his friend's shoulders. "What?" he asked quietly.

"I'm scared." Emil admitted, sniffling. "Of Gris, of bein' alone, of so many t'ings…de only t'ings I can actually depend on are you, Theoren an' de others. Dat's it. Gris has pushed me so far an' so hard an' I put up wit' it for de sake of everyt'ing else, but last night, somet'ing snapped, an' I t'ink it might've been my sanity. I can' take it anymore."

The two young thieves sat in silence for a few minutes, both thinking about what Emil had just said. Just as Remy opened his mouth to speak, the door opened and the rest of the thieves joined them.

"Emil, are you okay?" Zoe asked, her voice laden with concern.

Emil actually smiled at the young Japanese woman and gave a somewhat characteristic reply. "Well, dat depends on your definition of okay. Personally, I t'ink I'm doin' crappy, but hey, what de hell do I know, anyway? I'm jus' de one who's losin' his mind."

"You sound better den you did last night, anyway." Claude commented.

"Funny, I don' _feel_ any better…" Emil replied. "Do you know somet'ing I don', Claude?"

Claude shook his head and looked at Theoren, who said,

"I have a confession to make. I t'ink I might have made de situation wit' Gris worse a little while ago."

Emil raised an eyebrow. "Please don' start imitatin' me…it'll only get you in trouble…"

"I wasn'. We only need one you in dis guild. But I got angry wit' him an' I told him to leave you alone, an' all it did was piss him off…."

It was Remy's turn to raise his eyebrows. He wasn't sure he liked where this was going. With Emil in such a fragile state, they didn't need Gris gunning for him, trying to hurt him more than he already was hurt. "So…?"

Theoren sighed. "So…he said dat if Emil ever said another obnoxious t'ing to him…repeat of yesterday, probably worse."

"Oh yay for me!" Emil exclaimed. "I'm jus' _so_ lucky…_not_!"

Mercy was worried. "Emil, we are _not_ gon' let him hurt you, ever again. We promised you dat last night an' we have ever intention of stickin' to it. But," she looked at Remy and Theoren. "how are we gon' do it?"

"I know! I know!" Emil exclaimed, waving his hand around and bouncing on his bed, causing Remy to fall on the floor, which in turn caused Emil to crack up laughing. "Don' let us in de same room together ever again, forever."

"Are you up for an Academy Award or somet'ing?" Genard chuckled, helping Remy up off the floor.

"Non, but you can nominate me if you want to." Emil said, settling down and sighing. He really wasn't feeling better, he just felt like being silly. He knew his friends understood, because they were all giving him looks that said they knew it was all an act. "I don' feel like getting up…do you guys mind if I jus' stay here?" he asked, sounding tired again.

Mercy ruffled his hair. "Of course not. If you need any of us, you know where to find us. We're never far away."

As the thieves filed out of the room, Emil lay down and watched them, thinking that he was very lucky to have a family like them. Theoren was the last one to go, and as he reached the door, Emil said,

"Theo wait."

Theoren paused at the door and looked back at Emil, who motioned for him to come back. He did so, sitting on the bed beside Emil, who sat back up. 

"What is it, Emil?" Theoren asked.

"T'anks. For stayin' wit' me last night, an' for getting mad at Gris. I wish I'd been awake to see it." Emil replied with a faint smile.

Theoren chuckled. "De look on his face was somet'ing else, dat's for sure. Listen kid, it's not easy for me to express myself, but you, Remy an' Zoe, an' even Genard sometimes, you guys are like de kids I never had, especially since Jean-Luc left, an' I'll be damned if I'm gon' let anyone get away wit' hurtin' you. An' I know Mercy an' Claude feel de exact same way."

Emil sighed. "I'm not good at askin' for help from you guys…"

"I know." Theoren replied. "An' dat's okay, b'cause whether you ask for it or not, you're getting it. You don' have a say in de matter, not since last night. We said we'd take care of you an' we will."

Emil closed his eyes and leaned his head on Theoren's shoulder. Theoren was suddenly struck with the realization of just how helpless and fragile Emil looked and felt as his friend whispered,

"I jus' hope we're all strong enough to pull t'rough dis…"

To Be Continued…


	9. Part Nine

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Nine

Bella Donna left Remy's room in a state of disbelief. Remy had just told her some information that had shocked her. She had known, of course, about how Gris-Gris, Fifolet and Questa had attacked Emil and Genard in the kitchen, but she had assumed everything was fine, especially after she had talked to the guys and told them to back off. Finding out that she was wrong was a bit of a blow.

She ran into her good friend and fellow assassin, Singer, in the hallway.

"Dis is insane…" Bel commented. Singer looked at her curiously, tilting her head, almost making the sunglasses she wore almost continuously fall off her face.

"What is?" Singer questioned.

"Remember how I told you 'bout de guys attacking Emil and Genard? Well, I thought everyt'ing was okay, mais, I jus' found out from Remy dat t'ings aren' fine at all."

"Why? What's wrong? I mean Emil an' Genard aren' helpless, ya know?"

Bella Donna sighed. "Yeah, well, dat's true, but I guess all de problems Emil's been havin' wit Gris since de unification have been takin' a toll on Emil."

"So?" Singer replied with a huff. "Like it should matter to de rest of us if he's havin' problems. He's a t'ief, we're assassins. Derefore, it doesn' matter to us what happens to dem."

"It matters to Remy, an' derefore, it matters to me." Bella Donna said sharply. "An' I'm gon' do somet'ing 'bout it."

***

Bella Donna paused outside Emil's bedroom door. Singer looked at her in disbelief.

"You're gon' talk to him?"

"Oui, I am. An' after dat, I don' know what I'm gon' do." Bel replied.

Bel raised her hand to knock on the door, and stopped midway. She had known Emil for a long time, since they were children, but the two had only one thing in common, and that was Remy. Bel wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to say to him, but she knew she had to say something. She took a deep breath, gave Singer a slight smile, and knocked.

"C'min." Emil's tired-sounding voice came from inside the room.

Bella Donna couldn't back down now. She opened the door and went inside. She wasn't sure what she had expected to see, but Emil was sitting up in his bed with the bedside light on, looking absently at a magazine. Bel had never really paid much attention to Emil in the past, but she saw that he looked more drained and less flamboyant than usual. 

Emil raised an eyebrow when he saw Bel. "What's up?" he asked, trying to put some of his old cheerfulness in his voice and not really succeeding.

"Um…" Bella Donna faltered. "I don' really know where to begin…"

"Sure ya do," Emil replied. "De beginnin' is always a good place to start. Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?" Bel repeated. "Well, I'm here b'cause…b'cause I want to apologize to you. Remy told me 'bout what's been goin' on, an' I know dat not'ing I can say will make it better, but I'm sorry."

Emil looked at her and motioned for her to sit on the bed beside him. She did so and waited for him to react to what she had said.

"T'anks, Bel. I know it wasn' easy for you to come in here an' say dat. I wish it could help, but I don' t'ink it can. I…uh…what did Remy tell you?" Emil asked suddenly.

Bella Donna looked at him sharply and suddenly wondered what to say to that. She finally decided on something she didn't say often: the truth. "He said dat all de stuff wit' Gris was takin' a toll on you an' dat he wanted it to stop b'cause he was worried 'bout you. He said dey're all worried…"

"B'cause my emotional an' physical state ain' de greatest right now? Yeah. Doesn' surprise me. I don' really understand it, mais, I can' help it. But it's not your fault." Emil replied.

"You t'ink Gris will listen to Remy? He won'. But he will listen to me, I hope. An' I am gon' get him to back off. For Remy…b'cause he asked me to…an' for you…b'cause you need me to."

Emil blinked a couple of times as what Bel had just said registered in his mind. He was totally taken aback by what she said, and that she, Bella Donna Boudreaux, former leader of the Assassins guild, was actually saying she would help him. There really were first times for everything.

***

Gris-Gris, Fifolet and Questa were sitting in the living room at the safehouse while Bel was talking to Emil. They were unaware of what she was doing, and would have been furious if they'd known, especially if they had found out she was telling the thief she would help him. The three men sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts, and they were startled when Theoren entered the room, with Claude and Genard behind him.

"Dis crap has to stop, guys." Theoren said. "You have no right to attack us to satisfy your own whim."

Gris glared at Theoren. "You actually t'ink you can jus' waltz in here an' tell us what we can an' can' do, Marceaux? You don' run dis guild."

"Neither do you, but you seem to be takin' a lot of what goes on here into your own hands, with no regard whatsoever for Remy or Bella Donna, both of whom are more important den you are."

"Watch yourself, Marceaux…" Fifolet snarled, getting up and standing right in front of Theoren, challenging him.

"Why should I?" Theoren demanded, not backing down. "You don'. An' I'm getting sick an' tired of de problems b'tween de people in dis guild. I t'ink it has to stop. Now."

"You want us to b'have ourselves? What a shock." Gris chuckled, an evil tone creeping into his voice. I'll have you know, Marceaux, dat no one tells us what to do, especially not you. I know you're upset over what's goin' on wit' Lapin, but he d'serves what he gets, an' dat's it. You can' stop me."

"If you hurt him one more time…" Claude warned, speaking for the first time, his blue eyes flashing in anger.

"What? You'll hurt me? Ha. You can' do a t'ing to me, little man, an' you know it. None of you can. I have power none of you stupid t'ieves can match, an' you'll be wise to let me do as I wish." Gris said dangerously.

"We'll see 'bout dat, Gris. We're not as stupid as you t'ink we are." Genard said. "Sure, Emil an' I got caught de other day, but dat won' happen 'gain, you can bet on it."

"Consider yourself warned, t'ief. We _will_ do whatever we want to, an' if dat includes hurtin' Lapin, den dat's what it includes." Questa said, fingering his knife.

"You can consider _yourselves_ warned as well," Claude said. "We don' plan on lettin' you get 'way wit' anyt'ing. Period."

To Be Continued…


	10. Part Ten

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Ten

Emil woke up two days later feeling like crap. His head was pounding, his eyes felt like they were on fire, his throat felt like it was three feet thick, every muscle in his body ached, and when he woke up he endured a coughing fit that made his stomach hurt. He lay back in bed and groaned.

"I do not need dis…not now." He sighed and coughed again. "Ugh…" he said to the ceiling when he realized he could hardly talk. His throat was all swollen and sore, but it wasn't because of Gris trying to strangle him. He was sick; he didn't know what he had, but he felt horrible. And he had a strange desire to eat a dozen popsicles.

"Hmmm…" he whispered, finding that he could talk better in whispers because it didn't hurt his throat so much. "A popsicle sounds good…but do I have de strength to get outta bed an' go get one?"

He decided to risk it and pushed the covers off himself, shivering when his feet touched the floor. He hadn't been out of bed in days, he had felt too miserable, and he was used to the warm comfort of his bed. He pulled on his dark blue bathrobe and the fuzzy slippers Mercy had gotten him for his last birthday and headed for the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob when he was overtaken with another coughing fit. When it ended, he succeeded in opening the door and going out into the hallway.

It was still early in the morning, and he didn't see anyone else up and about on his way to the kitchen. He coughed some more as he opened the freezer door and found the box of popsicles.

"What?" He whispered. "No lime? Damn. Okay, do I want cherry, grape or orange?"

"How about butt-kick?" said an evil voice from the doorway.

Holding onto the handle of the freezer door for support because he felt like his legs were about to give out, Emil sighed. "Gris…please…I haven' said or done anyt'ing to you in days…please leave me alone…" he whispered, coughing again.

"Dat's true." Gris-Gris admitted. "But you see, your friends have. An' I t'ink it's time dey were shown dat I mean business. Since dey're getting after me on your behalf…"

"Gris, in case you couldn' tell, I'm sick. I can' talk. I jus' wan' get a popsicle an' go back to bed. Please leave me alone…"

"You can' talk? Gee, dat's too bad. Dat means you can' yell for help." Gris smirked, moving closer to Emil, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Oh well. Your loss."

'Oh no…' Emil thought with a sinking feeling in his stomach. 'I shoulda stayed in bed…'

***

Mercy walked into the kitchen a little while later and stopped in her tracks. What she saw scared her to the very core of her being. "Oh my God…Emil!" she exclaimed softly, ungluing her feet from the floor and racing to the young thief's side. "THEO! CLAUDE!" She yelled as loud as she could to her two friends, whom she knew were in the living room.

She turned Emil over and gasped at how horrible he looked. As Theoren and Claude ran into the room, she checked Emil's pulse and sighed with relief when she learned he was still alive. His usually pale face was covered in bruises and flushed, and Mercy could only imagine what the rest of his body looked like as well.

"What happened?!" Theoren demanded, kneeling down on the other side of Emil, a concerned look on his face.

"I don' know, I found him like dis." Mercy replied. "Claude, please go call Tante Mattie. We're gon' need her."

As Claude left the room, muttering to himself, Theoren and Mercy tried to wake Emil up.

"What d'you wan' bet Gris did dis?" Theoren asked grimly. 

Mercy nodded. "After dat little run in you guys had wit' de assassins de other day, it wouldn' surprise me. Mais, I t'ink dere's more wrong den dat. He's got a fever an' it looks like his throat is swollen. I t'ink he's sick too. C'mon, Red, please wake up." 

Emil coughed as he woke up, and tried to focus his burning eyes on his friends. He shuddered in pain from the coughing. "I jus' wanted a popsicle…" he whispered so softly they could hardly hear him.

Mercy pulled him close to her and rocked him in her comforting arms. "Shhh, baby, it's okay. Claude's callin' Tante Mattie. We'll take care of you."

Theoren gently ruffled Emil's red hair. "Emil, what happened?"

"I woke up, an' I'm sick." Emil whispered in reply. "I can' talk, dat's why I'm whispering. I came down here to get a popsicle, an' Gris beat me up. He said he wanted to show you guys dat he meant business."

Claude came back in and told the others that Tante Mattie was on her way. As they tried to get Emil back up to his bedroom, he had another coughing fit and looked at his friends in horror when he tasted something coppery in his mouth.

"What is it?" Claude asked.

"Blood." Emil whispered, a very scared look crossing his face. "I hope Tante hurries…"

***

"Dat's it. I'm gon' kill him." Claude said. He and Theoren were in the living room of the safehouse, having been kicked out of Emil's room by Tante Mattie, who only allowed Mercy to stay.

"I'll help ya." Theoren replied. "I'm sick of Gris doin' dis kind of t'ing…Emil's lucky to be alive."

Upstairs in Emil's room, Tante Mattie was working her healing magic on his beaten body. Mercy had shivered when she saw the bruises on Emil's chest and stomach. He had fallen asleep very quickly after they got him into bed, and was lying there, looking anything but peaceful. That was understandable, as he was in immense pain.

"Tante, is he goin' to be okay?" Mercy asked, sounding worried.

"De chil' will be fine, Mercy." Tante Mattie replied. "But he'll need a lot of rest, an' even more care."

"You can count on us, you know dat. We'll all do whatever we can for him." Mercy said.

"I know, chil'. He's very lucky to have you."

The door opened and Remy ran in, his red on black eyes wide with horror. "What happened?"

"Remy, hush." Tante Mattie whispered sharply. "Emil has a throat infection, an' Gris didn' help t'ings any. He beat Emil up very badly dis mornin'."

"Is he okay?" Remy asked, standing by Mercy, who put a hand on his shoulder. She knew how much her young brother-in-law cared for Emil. The two had grown up together; they were like brothers.

"He's gon' be fine, but it will take time."

Remy motioned for Mercy to join him on the other side of the room. "Merce, why'd he do it? Emil didn' say anyt'ing to him, did he?"

Mercy shook her head. "Non, but Theo, Claude an' Genard did. They had a bit of a run-in wit' Gris, Fifolet an' Questa a couple days ago, an' I guess some heated words were said. I don' know, I wasn' dere. Emil told us when we found him dat Gris had wanted to show de others dat he meant business."

Remy sighed. "Dis whole t'ing is so out of control…How angry are Theo an' Claude right now?"

"Pretty mad. You might want to go talk to dem. Dey were really upset when they left us a little while ago. If Gris isn' careful, he's gon' end up dead."

Remy sighed again and frowned. "Where'd dey go, do you know?"

"I heard Theoren say somet'ing 'bout de living room. You could check there."

"Okay. Will you stay here an' help Tante take care of him?" Remy asked, looking over at Emil.

"Of course." Mercy replied.

As Remy walked down the stairs to the main floor of the safehouse, he sighed for a third time. "I'm startin' to really hate dis unification…" he muttered. And he could tell from the angry looks on Theoren and Claude's faces that they felt the exact same way.

To Be Continued…


	11. Part Eleven

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Eleven

Remy went back into Emil's room a little while later and was happily surprised to see his friend awake. Tante Mattie was nowhere to be found, but Mercy was there, talking to Emil and holding his hand.

"Merce, can I talk to Emil for a minute?" Remy asked his sister-in-law. Mercy nodded and got up to leave the room, giving Emil's hand a gentle squeeze before she left.

"Hi Rem." Emil whispered, giving his best friend a small, pained smile.

"How are you feelin'?" Remy wanted to know.

Emil coughed for a few minutes and then groaned before answering. "I've been better." He replied. "I feel like someone ran me over wit' a transfer truck. How angry are Theo an' Claude?"

"I had to talk dem outta findin' Gris an' killin' him right now." Remy explained. "Dey're angry; dey want him to stop what he's doin' an' dey're startin' to be convinced dat de only way to stop him is to kill him."

"Dat's not de way it should have to be…" Emil whispered. "What's Bella Donna doin'?"

"What do you mean?"

"She came to see me. Said she'd do what she could to make all of dem stop. Huh. I shoulda known she wouldn' be able to do it."

"She said she'd help you?" Remy was amazed. He knew that deep down in her heart, Bella Donna was an assassin and always would be. Helping thieves was not what assassins do.

"Oui. She said she'd do what she could to stop de problems. For you an' for me." Emil explained.

"For both of us?" Now Remy was really amazed.

"Yeah. She said she'd do it for you b'cause you wanted her to, an' she'd do it for me b'cause I needed her to. Dat was a couple of days ago. I guess she either didn' try or she failed." Emil whispered sadly, coughing again. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

Remy reached over and took his friend's hand, concern showing in his red on black eyes. He knew his friend was miserable and he felt helpless because there was nothing he could do to take the pain away. "Emil?"

"I'm tired, Rem. An' I'm sore. I can' take anymore, 'specially while I'm sick. You gotta help me. Please."

"You have my word, Emil. An' de others will help. I promise." Remy confirmed.

***

"Remy an' I have called dis meetin' for a reason." Bella Donna said. Both she and Remy were standing at the front of the safehouse living room, and neither one of them was smiling. The thieves were on one side of the room and the assassins were on the other. The hostility between the two groups was incredible, an' before they started the meeting Remy commented to Bel that he thought they would be able to cut the tension in the room with a knife.

"De problems b'tween de people in dis guild have to stop, an' dey have to stop now." Remy said. He was at the end of his patience with the assassins, although he wouldn't tell Bella Donna that, because he needed her on his side.

"Dere wouldn' _be_ any problems if _dey_ didn' keep startin' dem." Gris grumbled.

"Dat's a valid point, Gris, although I have to tell you, what you did dis mornin' wasn' called for." Remy replied.

"Dey needed to be taught a lesson!" Gris exclaimed.

"It's not your place to say dat, Gris." Bel commented. "You wanted to get Theoren, Claude an' Genard off your back, an' so you turned 'round an' did de one t'ing dat would make dem even more angry wit' you den dey already were."

"I wanted to tell dem to back off." Gris muttered.

"Oui. We realize dat. But Gris, tell me somet'ing now." Remy said. "Say someone threatened or hurt Questa dere. What would you do?"

Gris contemplated that idea for a few moments before replying to Remy's question. "I'd get mad, an' I'd want to get dem back for it," he said eventually.

"Dat's how we feel, when you hurt Emil." Theoren explained. "'Specially what you did dis mornin'."

"It's one t'ing to get after him for sayin' somet'ing obnoxious or stupid, Gris, but it's quite another to hurt him when he hasn' done or said a t'ing to you in days." Claude continued. 

"De lesson needs to be taught." Fifolet replied. "We're gon' do what we want, an' you guys have to learn dat you can' stop us."

"What 'bout de unification?" Bel asked.

"Screw de unification, Bel. I'm sorry, but it isn' gon' work." Gris told her sharply. "It will fail, unless dey learn to back off!"

"It'll also fail if you don' start to realize dat we're not stupid, we jus' see t'ings differently." Came a whispered voice from the doorway, followed by a series of coughs.

Emil looked at the assembled thieves and assassins, his blue eyes filled with pain. Upon seeing him standing there in his bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, leaning against the wall, his arms wrapped around his midsection because it hurt so much, they all realized that he was in very rough shape. 

Bella Donna decided to be a role model for the other assassins, even though it was totally against her character. She went over to Emil and put a hand on his shoulder, her eyes widening as she discovered that he was shaking from the exertion of being up. "Why don' you go sit down, an' get off your feet, huh?"

Emil nodded and went over to the couch. Mercy and Genard moved over to make room for him between them. He didn't want to disturb the meeting, so he leaned against Mercy and did his best to regulate his breathing so he wouldn't cough so much.

"We have a problem, guys." Remy said. "An' we have to work together to fix it."

"What if it can' _be_ fixed, LeBeau?" Questa asked.

"It _can_ be, Questa." Bella Donna replied. "We're not two separate guilds anymore. No one ever told us dis was gon' be easy, but if we work at it, we _can_ succeed, we_ can_ uphold de prophecies de way we're s'posed to."

"An' if we don' want to?" Gris questioned darkly, casting an evil look in Emil's direction. The big assassin really didn't like the young thief at all and it was starting to become clear that he wouldn't stop his actions anytime soon.

"I saw that look, Gris, knock it off!" Zoe exclaimed. "Leave him alone!"

Gris snickered. "Make me, little girl." He said as he got up and headed out the room, followed by Questa and Fifolet. "Far as I'm concerned, dis meetin' is over."

***

"Well, dat went…lousy." Remy said as the others filed out of the room.

Bella Donna sighed, watching as Mercy helped Emil, who was overcome by another coughing fit. "I told him I'd do what I could to stop dis mess…"

Remy put his hand on Bel's shoulder. "I know. An' we both 'preciate it. But I t'ink it's gon' take more den a joint meetin' to make de problems go 'way."

The patriarch and viceroy of the Unified Guilds looked at each other, matching looks of 'what-do-we-do-now?' on their faces. Little did either of them know, but it was going to take much, much more than just group meetings to make the problems stop. Gris was determined to hurt Emil, and the other thieves were just as determined to defend their comrade. Something big was going to have to happen. And if Remy and Bel had any idea of it, they would have been very, very concerned.

To Be Continued…


	12. Part Twelve

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Twelve

"Damn." Remy said, hanging up the phone and looking at Bella Donna, who tilted her head in confusion.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Remy sighed. "In de middle of all dis crap down here, I have to go. Dat was Professor Xavier. He needs me to go on an emergency mission; I have to leave immediately."

Bel's eyes widened. "Oh no…Can' he send someone else?"

Remy gave his ex-wife a cryptic grin. "He is. I'm s'posed to go wit' Storm, Rogue an' Cyclops. I don' know how long it's gon' take, but can you handle t'ings here without me?"

Bel frowned. "I'll do my best, but it isn' gon' be easy wit' one of us gone."

"I know, Bel. But I don' have a choice." Remy admitted. "Now, I have to go tell de others de bad news.

A few minutes later, Remy found the six thieves gathered in Emil's room, talking quietly. Emil himself was sound asleep in bed. Remy quietly shut the door behind himself and looked at them all, a concerned expression crossing his fine features when he saw Emil.   
"I got some bad news, mes amis." He said, deciding to get right to the point. "I have to leave for New York immediately."

"How come?" Genard asked, quickly glancing at Emil.

Remy sighed as he caught the worried look in Genard's kind brown eyes. "Professor Xavier needs me to go wit' some of de others on an emergency mission to stop de FOH. I don' know how long I'll be gone. An' I can' even give you a number where you can reach me."

He went across the room and stood beside Emil's bed, gently resting his hand on his friend's slightly feverish forehead. "Promise me you'll take care of him."

"You know we will, Remy." Zoe replied. "He's important to us to, you know."

Remy nodded. "I have to go. I hate not tellin' him, but I also hate to wake him up. He needs as much rest as he can get."

"We'll tell him when he wakes up," Mercy said. "You better get going."

***

When Emil woke up late the next morning, he was alone in his room. He didn't think much of that, because while he _was_ sick, he didn't expect his friends to stay by his side twenty-four-seven. He was feeling a little bit better, so he decided to get up and go see Remy. Upon finding his friend's room empty, he frowned and started to go back to his own room, but stopped when he saw Bella Donna down the hallway.

"Bel." He croaked out, coughing and almost giggling at how funny his voice sounded.

Bella Donna turned and gave him a little smile. "How are you feeling?" she asked, joining him outside his room.

Emil sighed. "A little better," he coughed. "Where's Remy?"

"Oh…" Bel faltered. She hadn't realized that Emil didn't know Remy was gone. "Emil, he had to go to New York. Emergency X-Men business. He'll be back soon."

"Huh. Okay…How come it's so quiet? Where is everyone?"

"I'm not sure. I've been up for hours, an' I haven' seen anyone else. Dey wouldn' all still be asleep…"

"Non…" Emil giggled, coughing again. "I'm de bed-bug 'round here dese days."

***

Neither Emil or Bel knew it, but at that moment, things were about as bad as they could get. In the basement of the safehouse, Theoren, Claude, Mercy, Genard and Zoe were lined up on the floor along one wall, bound and gagged and only half-conscious. Three very nasty assassins had beaten them very badly. Singer's job was to keep an eye out for Bella Donna or Emil.

"Now. Here's how t'ings are gon' work. You better be listenin'." Gris said. "Your little mutie savior ain' here. An' de only other one of you who might be able to do anyt'ing 'bout dis is upstairs, hardly able to stand up on his own legs. If you're good little boys an' girls, you'll live to see tomorrow. If you give us any trouble, you won'. In de end, t'ough, you're all gon' die. It depends on you how long you stay alive b'fore you do, though."

Upstairs, Bella Donna had, with the help of Tante Mattie, told Emil to go back to bed. Then she went looking for the rest of the Guild with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn't like the way this was looking. It was really too quiet in the safehouse. Even Tante Mattie had noticed it and said something.

In the kitchen, Bel paused at the basement door. "Why would dey all be down dere?" she asked herself. It didn't make any sense, but she had to look. When she was halfway down the stairs, she heard Singer's voice.

"She's comin', Gris!"

Bel stopped at the bottom of the stairs and took in the scene before her, her eyes wide with horror. "Gris…what are you doin'?" she demanded, her voice carrying all the authority she had as the former leader of the Assassins Guild.

Gris-Gris grinned evilly at her. "Endin' de problems, my dear Bella Donna." He said, his voice venomous. "You see, we're gon' kill dese here t'ieves, an' when we're done, I'm gon' go upstairs an' finish off dat little red-haired punk, an' all our problems will be solved."

"You don' have to do dis, Gris. Dere has to be another way." Bella Donna pleaded. Silently, she was sending out a message to Tante Mattie, whom she knew was upstairs with Emil. She had managed to ask Mattie to come to the basement, but that was as far as she got before Fifolet took the barrel of his gun and slammed it across the back of her head, knocking her unconscious.

***

"Oh no." Tante Mattie breathed. The old woman was not only a healer, but she also had emphatic abilities, like Deanna Troi on Star Trek: The Next Generation, and she felt what had happened in the basement.

"What?" Emil asked her, whispering again because he found it was easier on his voice.

"If I'm getting dis right, chil', de guild is fallin' apart. I'm gon' go down to see if I can find out exactly what's goin' on. I'll be back."

Tante Mattie sent her spirit down to the basement (she didn't dare go down physically) and saw what was happening. Emil patiently waited for her to come back and when she did, he didn't like the look on her kindly face.

"What?" he asked again, fear creeping into his hushed voice.

"Get up an' get dressed. I'd go myself, but I have to stay here an' see if I can fix dis mess. What I could tell, Gris, Fifolet, and Questa have de rest of de t'ieves tied up in de basement. Gris said somet'ing 'bout killin' dem. Bel tried to stop dem, but she got knocked out, by Fifolet I t'ink."

"So…where'm I goin?" Emil questioned, pulling on a pair of socks.

"You're in no shape to do dis, it's not gon' be easy, but you have to get out of here. You have to go to New York an' see if you can talk Professor Xavier into getting Remy home from de mission he's on early. We need him here more den de X-Men need him."

Emil started coughing as he got ready to go and ended up sitting back on his bed, drained of energy, holding his stomach in pain. "Okay. I'll go." He said, coughing some more and groaning. "But if I die doin' dis, I'm gon' come back an' haunt dose blasted assassins…"

To Be Continued…


	13. Part Thirteen

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Thirteen

Emil coughed and hugged himself, leaning against the side of the bus. He was absolutely miserable, but the bus was the safest way for him to travel. There wasn't much security in a bus station, whereas in an airport you could find security every two steps. So there was Emil, switching buses every few cities, slowly working his way up the country. 

What he was going to do once he got to New York, Emil had no idea whatsoever. He had never been there before, plus he had never even seen a picture of any of the X-Men, so he really had nothing to go on. He was just hoping that he'd be able to find his way to them with few problems.

Emil tried not to look at the lady sitting beside him, although it was difficult, and he tried even harder not to draw any attention to himself, although he noticed that every time he had a coughing fit, the lady looked his way. 

The woman, who looked to Emil to be in her mid-sixties, finally decided to say something to him.

"Honey, are you alright?"

Emil stopped coughing and took a deep breath before looking at her and replying. He felt feverish, and like he was going to throw up. He also wanted nothing more than to lie down somewhere and go to sleep. He had been starting to feel a bit better, but this trip was draining him of all energy.

"Non…I'm not okay." He told the lady, half wishing she'd minded her own business. "I feel rotten an' I probably shouldn' be here…"

"Then why are you?" she questioned, a concerned look on her face.

Emil pondered that question for a moment before answering. He finally decided to play it safe. "Fam'ly business."

"Are you going to make it to where you're going okay? Do you want me to get them to stop the bus so you can rest somewhere?" the lady asked.

"Non, non, dat's okay. It's extremely important dat I get to New York as soon as possible."

The bus continued to roll along the high way and Emil sat there, looking out the window and coughing. The lady decided to leave him be, although she continued to look at him sympathetically every time he coughed. Emil sighed and wished the trip wouldn't take so long. He was exhausted. He just hoped Tante Mattie was having an easier time back home than he was.

***

Tante Mattie woke up to find herself bound and gagged beside the thieves, along with Bella Donna, who was shooting angry looks at Fifolet, Questa and Singer. Gris was nowhere to be found, but Mattie had an idea where he was, and suddenly dreaded his return. She knew he would not be happy when he learned that Emil was gone.

Sure enough, Gris rejoined them in the basement a few moments later, his dark eyes blazing furiously. He went over to Mattie and pulled the bandana out of her mouth. 

"Okay, old woman, where is he?" he demanded.

Tante Mattie looked as innocent as she could. "What are you talkin' 'bout?"

"Don' play coy wit' me!" Gris snarled angrily. "Lapin. Where is he? Where'd he go?"

Mattie didn't make eye contact with Gris. She knew he would not be happy when he found out the truth. "He has gone to New York." She told him simply, not offering any other information.

"He went…? Wait. He went to get LeBeau! You sent him to get LeBeau! How _dare_ you?!"

"Dis has gone too far. It needs to be stopped. An' since you aren' listenin' to Bel, dere is only one other option. Remy. I jus' hope Emil gets de message to him in time."

***

The bus rolled to a stop at the station in Westchester and Emil sighed with relief. He hadn't been able to get much sleep on his trip, partially because he didn't want to miss any of the switches he had to make, and partially because of the small children who were continually making noise around him. The lady who had been his seat partner had gotten off the bus hours ago, and he'd been sitting alone for the last leg of his trip, something he didn't mind. If he didn't have to sit with anyone, he didn't have to answer any questions that would be best left unasked and unanswered.

Emil got off the bus and started walking. He had no idea how big Westchester was, but he figured if he could walk around New Orleans all the time, he could walk around Westchester, and hopefully get where he needed to go.

He had to admit as he walked around, Westchester was a beautiful little town. However, as the day wore on, he was starting to think he was never going to find his destination. He hadn't seen a single mansion since he arrived, and he knew that the X-Men lived in a mansion. He was feeling discouraged, but he knew better than to give up, so he kept going, even though his mental and physical pain and exhaustion was beginning to get the best of him.

As the sun went down, Emil's eyesight started giving out on him. He was having a very hard time keeping his eyelids open, and when he could manage to get them to function for a few moments, he couldn't focus his eyes. He sat down on some grass and leaned against a large elm tree.

"Mus' rest…jus' for a minute…" Was the last thought that went through Emil's drained mind before he passed out and fell over onto the grass.

***

The Harley sped along the road, it's driver seemingly unaware of anything except himself, his bike and the road. That wasn't entirely the case, however, and the bike came abruptly to a halt when the driver saw a shape lying under the tree just outside the gate to the Xavier School. He parked the bike and got off, going slowly over to the shape, which he saw was a young man with red hair.

His keen senses alive, the short, stocky man sniffed the air and took a look around, but could not smell or see any danger surrounding the young man, who was obviously either deeply asleep or unconscious. The only thing that registered was the fact that the young man was very ill and in a lot of physical and emotional pain.

The stocky man sighed and rolled the red-haired man onto his back, something that got a slight, almost undetectable groan out of the stranger, but nothing else. He tapped his communicator.

"Logan to Jean."

A charming female voice came over the communicator link. "What is it, Logan?"

"Jeannie, you better come out here. I'm just outside the gate, there's a man, I'd say early-to-mid-twenties, unconscious under one of the trees. Bring Hank with you."

"We're on our way. Jean out."

Logan waited for his teammates to join him and looked down at the young man. "Don't worry, kid. Whoever you are, Hank's one of the best damned doctors on the planet. He'll take care of you."

To Be Continued…


	14. Part Fourteen

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Fourteen

Dr. Henry McCoy adjusted the two IVs in Emil's arm. None of the X-Men had any idea who the red-haired stranger was, but the doctor in Hank refused to do nothing to help the young man. The IV in Emil's right arm contained antibiotics to make him get better. The IV in his left arm contained liquid nutrients designed to help the antibiotics work.

Standing on one side of the room were Logan, who had carried Emil into the mansion, and Jean Grey. Seated between them in his hoverchair was Professor Charles Xavier, founder of the X-Men and the man Emil had gone to New York to find. The four X-Men were waiting for Emil to wake up.

Hank looked down at his young patient, a frown furrowing his furry blue face. He lightly ran a blue clawed finger over Emil's sleeping, still face. "He is so young."

Jean joined him, only on the other side of the bed. A soft smile spread across her features. She studied Emil's face for a moment and absently wondered what color his eyes were before commenting to Hank,

"On the one hand, he looks almost innocent, but beneath that, there's worry, pain and desperation that shouldn't be seen in one who looks as young as he does."

"What I wanna know is who he is and what he's doin' here." Logan growled from his position leaning against the wall by the professor. 

Professor Xavier glanced sharply in Logan's direction, but said nothing to the stocky man. Instead, he moved to the foot of the bed and addressed Hank.

"Do you think he will wake up sometime soon, Hank? I would like to talk to him and find out the answers to Logan's questions as well as a few more."

Hank studied the monitors hooked up to the IV's. "Once the antibiotics start to work, and he gets more nutrients in his system, it shouldn't be too long. I can answer one question for you, however, our young friend here is not a mutant."

"Now I really wanna know who he is and why he's here." Logan muttered, popping a single adamantium claw with a loud SNIKT. He retracted the claw when he saw the look Jean was sending him. Logan was the one, after all, who had not sensed any danger from the stranger, which, in Jean's eyes, meant that he didn't have the right to be so touchy about the young man.

"Logan, relax." Jean said quietly, her green eyes flashing. "Hank said he'd wake up soon. And we don't need to scare him with your claws when he does wake up."

"Sure Jeannie. Whatever ya say." Logan replied with a slight grumble.

***

Two hours later, Emil groaned, coughed and opened his eyes weakly. His trip from Louisiana had taken a lot out of him. Before his eyes focused, he became aware that there was a needle stuck in each of his arms. This fact alarmed him but he resisted the urge to pull them out. He blinked his eyes a few times and finally focused them on the man standing beside the bed he was lying on.

The appearance of the large man alarmed Emil more than the needles in his arms did. He spoke in fragments, his voice scratchy, as he looked at Hank with wide eyes. 

"Fangs. Claws. Blue fur. Blue _fur_? Oh mon dieu…"

The realization that the man standing by him looked like a blue monster out of a video game hit Emil and in true thief fashion, he glanced quickly around the room, looking for any means of escape. He found one, but it was being blocked by a short stocky man who somehow frightened Emil more than the big furry blue guy did.

Emil noticed there were two other people in the room, a tall red haired lady with a kind expression on her face, and a bald man in a chair that floated on air. The bald man had a gentle expression on his face as well, and that, combined with the fact that the blue guy didn't look hostile, calmed Emil down some. He relaxed and looked at them, his blue eyes studying them and everything in the room as he waited for one of them to say something. He discovered he was in a hospital room of some kind, but he didn't think it was in an actual hospital, so he relaxed even more. Being a thief, and a wanted criminal, he couldn't be too careful. If the police got hold of him, he'd be facing a long time in a state penitentiary somewhere.

"Ah, I see you're awake. How are you feeling?" The furry blue man asked, smiling kindly at Emil. Emil thought the man looked funny when he smiled, because of the fangs, but he didn't say so. Instead he coughed and raised an eyebrow.

"Tired. Sore. But I do kinda feel a bit better. Where am I?"

"You're in the MedLab at the Xavier School in Westchester, New York." Jean informed him.

Emil coughed again as the information registered. "Oh. I remember sittin' under a tree." He said quietly. "I was so tired…"

"Oh my stars and garters!" Hank suddenly cried out. "Where are our manners! You should at least know who you're talking to. I am Dr. Henry McCoy, but I am known as either Hank or Beast." 

Emil looked at him with a tilt of his head. "You a doctor? Whoa…"

"A world-renowned doctor at that." Jean commented. "My name is Jean Grey. And this," she said, motioning to Logan, "is Logan, also known as Wolverine."

Logan and Emil exchanged glances and Emil couldn't help feeling immense fear. He had a feeling that even Gris-Gris wouldn't mess with the short, burly man. Because Remy didn't speak of the X-Men very often when he was in New Orleans, the names didn't mean anything to Emil.

The bald man in the floating chair cleared his throat. Emil and the other three people in the room looked at him.

"And I am Professor Charles Xavier." He said, smiling at the red-haired young man before him.

Emil froze and stared at the Professor. "Did you say…Prof…? Wait…you're…X-Men?"

"That's right." Jean told him with a frown. "How did you know…?"

"How did I manage to do dis…?" Emil pondered quietly. He was startled out of his thoughts by Logan, who couldn't resist showing a little adamantium to make his point. The claws on his right hand appeared with a SNIKT and he snarled at Emil.

"Answer the lady's question, bub!"

Emil's eyes widened in fear when he saw the claws. "Oh mon dieu!" he whimpered, his voice an octave or so higher than normal. "I…uh…okay! Yeah!" He looked at the Professor and continued normally, "I was sent here to find you."

The Professor nodded. "I see. And who exactly are you? Where are you from? And why were you sent to find me?"

Emil, glancing nervously at Logan's claws, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm Emil Lapin, an' I came here from Nawlins. I'm a friend of Gambit's."

"From the Thieves Guild?" Hank asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. This was the first time since Remy's brother Henri had shown up at the mansion that any of them had ever seen another member of the legendary guild Remy was part of.

"Oui." Emil replied, nodding. "Professor, I was sent here to ask you a favor…" His voice trailed off and he bit his lip. He didn't really want very many people knowing what was going on with the Guilds in New Orleans.

The Professor nodded again. "We'll talk privately in a few moments."

"Merci." Emil said, a ghost of a smile crossing his face.

"Before you and the Professor talk, would you mind if I examined you? You are very ill and I would like to make sure the antibiotics are working as they should." Hank said.

Emil nodded again. "Okay…"

***

Down in New Orleans, Gris had taken the bandana out of Theoren's mouth as well. He and Tante Mattie were talking quietly while the assassins had a conference on the other side of the room.

"Did Remy really go to New York?" Theoren asked, hope in his voice.

"Dat he did. I jus' hope he made it, an' can find Professor Xavier." Mattie replied.

"He's so sick, Tante. He shouldn' have gone."

"Je sais, chil', but dere was no other choice. I couldn' go myself an' leave him here to fend for himself 'gainst dem." Mattie explained with a sigh.

Theoren returned the sigh, the hope fading out of his voice. "I understand. Mais, now dat Gris knows dat, who's to say he won' jus' kill us all right now? An' if he doesn', what if Remy doesn' get here in time, or what if de Professor doesn' send for him at all?"

"Dere's no sense in playin' what if, Theoren." Mattie scolded slightly. "Jus' have faith dat it will all work out in de end."

To Be Continued…


	15. Part Fifteen

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Fifteen

"I am getting the impression you wanted to talk to me in private." Professor Xavier commented, positioning his hoverchair beside Emil's bed. He smiled kindly at the young thief.

"We t'ieves don' like bein' conspicuous, Professor." Emil replied. "An' de less people know what's goin' on, de better, even if it doesn' involve dem."

"So what is this favor you came all the way from New Orleans to ask me?" the Professor asked, deciding not to beat around the bush. He knew something very important had brought Emil to New York, and he had an idea that it would be best to get it taken care of as soon as possible.

Emil coughed for a few minutes before replying to the Professor's question. First, he had to find out what exactly Xavier knew. "How much has Remy said 'bout de Guild unification?"

The Professor thought about the question for a moment. "Not much, just that the Thieves and Assassins Guilds have merged into one. So this has to do with them?"

"Oui. Dere are a lot of problems in de Guild. We've been havin' problems pretty much since de unification. Dey don' like us, we don' like dem, although we do try more den dey do to make de peace work." Emil explained, pausing from time to time to cough. "T'ings have been getting worse an' worse lately. In fact, your callin' Remy couldn' have come at a worse time. When I left, de assassins had beaten up de t'ieves an' tied 'em up in de basement of our safehouse. Dey even have Tante Mattie, an' dey're plannin' on killin' ev'ryone."

Professor Xavier let the information Emil was giving him sink in. He was starting to realize what Emil had come to ask him, but he let the young man continue without interrupting him.

"I'm too physically weak right now, b'cause I'm sick, to be able to stop dem. Dat's why Tante Mattie sent me here, rather than come herself. I t'ink she would have, but it wasn' in de best interests of de Guild. It all boils down to de fact dat right now, dere is only one person who can stop de assassins."

"Remy." Professor Xavier filled in.

Emil nodded and let out a deep, tired sigh that the Professor couldn't miss. "Oui. Professor, we realize dat Remy's important to de X-Men, an' we know dat you need him, mais, we need him too, if de t'ieves are gon' survive dis week. If de assassins succeed in killin' de other t'ieves, Remy an' I will be de only ones left. Dat means more to me den it does to him, I know, but still."

The Professor looked at Emil sharply. "Why does it mean more to you than to him, Emil?" he asked.

"Right now, dere are seven people in de Guild who are t'ieves. Five of dose people are descended from original members of de New Orleans T'ieves Guild. De other two were either adopted into de Guild or transferred into de New Orleans Guild from another one. Remy was de adopted one, dat means he's always been an outsider. I know de Guild means a lot to him, mais, I don' really know how much."

"You are one of de five descendants." Xavier commented.

"Oui." Emil replied. "Please, Professor Xavier, I know de mission you have him on mus' be important, but is dere any way for you to get him to come back so he can go down to Nawlins an' stop de assassins? I wouldn' have come all dis way, 'specially when I'm sick, if lives weren' at stake. De Guild prophecies have always said dat Remy would lead a _unified_ Guild to de resurrection. Right now, de Guild _is_ unified, mais it won' be if de assassins kill all de t'ieves."

Emil finished speaking with a coughing fit that left him exhausted. Breathing heavily, he leaned back in the bed with a groan, closing his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, but he also had to wait for the Professor's answer.

Xavier reached over and put a hand on Emil's arm. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern in his voice. He didn't want to use his telepathic abilities, because he wasn't sure if Emil knew he was a mutant. He didn't want to chance it when he had only met the boy an hour ago.

Emil swallowed painfully and opened his eyes, the expression on his face telling the Professor just how emotionally drained he was. He probably didn't realize it, but his feelings were coming across to the Professor very loudly. His pain, exhaustion and fear were radiating from him in waves the Professor couldn't ignore. 

"I'm sorry, Professor." Emil said. "I'm jus' tired."

"I understand. Why don't you get a little rest and I'll consult with the rest of the X-Men regarding your favor. I'll come back in an hour or so and let you know what we can do, okay?"

Emil nodded. "T'ank you Professor." He said, closing his eyes again. He really was very tired.

***

"Oh mon dieu…" Theoren whispered.

Between them, Gris, Fifolet and Questa were beating a glasses-less and already very beaten Genard, who, at that moment, was wishing he was dead. Bella Donna, Tante Mattie and the other thieves watched on in horror. The bandanas had all been removed from their mouths, so they could talk. They didn't talk much though, for fear of what would happen to them if they said something that angered Gris.

Bel looked at Theoren. "I'm sorry…" she said. "If I could stop dis, I would."

"Don' take dis de wrong way, Bel, but it wasn' all dat long 'go when you would have helped dem." Claude replied. "Why de change of heart all of a sudden? You forget who you are?"

Bel started to glare at him, but rethought her actions. "No, I didn' forget who I am, but I happen to know how important de prophecies are, an' I know what dey say. De unification is s'posed to succeed. An' all _dis_ isn' helpin' any."

"So what do you t'ink we should do 'bout it, chil'?" Tante Mattie asked. "'Side from pray, of course."

"I don' know, Tante. I wish I did." Bel replied with a sigh. She felt really powerless, more powerless than she ever had in her life. As a little girl, she was the daughter of the leader of the Assassins Guild. When she grew up, after her father died, she _was_ the leader of the Assassins Guild. And now, barely twenty-five years old, she was viceroy of the Unified Guilds and felt like the world was falling to pieces. It was a horrible feeling, the feeling of helplessness. She hated it.

"We can' stop dem." Mercy commented. "We don' have de strength. An' I'm startin' to t'ink dat if one of us doesn' say somet'ing to tick dem off, dey're gon' kill Genard. Dere has to be a way out of dis…"

"There is." Zoe replied. "And their names are Emil Lapin and Remy LeBeau."

***

"Emil? Emil, wake up." A kind voice penetrated through Emil's dreamless sleep, and he woke up. It took a lot of effort, but he managed to open his eyes, a searing pain rushing through his head when the brightness of the light registered. He coughed and blinked a few times, finally focusing his eyes on the person standing beside his bed. 

He had been expecting to see Dr. McCoy, or the Professor, but he got the shock of his life when he saw the last person he thought he would see.

"Remy?! What? How?"

Remy smiled down at his friend. "Emil hush. De professor called me, probably jus' after he left you, an' told me to come back immediately, so I did. De Blackbird flies very fast, needless to say. When I got here, he told me what you had told him. I'm goin' back to Nawlins as soon as Logan finishes fuelin' up de jet I'm takin'."

"Great!" Emil's eyes lit up with relief and hope, and he started to get up, but Remy stopped him with a firm hand on his chest, pushing him back down.

"Where do you t'ink you're goin'?" Remy demanded.

Emil was confused. "Back to Nawlins wit' you, where else?"

"No you're not. You are stayin' right where you are, in dat bed. An' you will not get out of dat bed without Hank's permission, until he says you can. You got dat mon ami?"

"Aww, but Rem…" Emil started to protest, but he was cut off.

"No buts, Emil." Remy said firmly, then softened his voice. "I want you to stay here an' get better. Dis is de closest t'ing to a real hospital you can go to, an' you need de care Hank can give you."

"Remy…" Emil said, worry in his face and voice. He hadn't liked leaving the others in New Orleans, and wanted to get back to them as quickly as possible.

"I know you're worried, Red." Remy said quietly. "So am I. An' when it's over, I'm gon' take de others back up here wit' me to get some peace an' quiet. When Hank says you can go, we'll all go back home an' see what we can do 'bout fixin' de unification, if for no other reason den b'cause Tante Mattie will insist on it."

Wolverine knocked on the door and poked his head inside the room. "The jet's ready when you are, Cajun."

Remy looked at his teammate and nodded. "T'anks, Logan." He turned back to Emil and said, "I'm gon' go now. I'll be back as soon as I can. You do what Hank tells ya, okay?"

Emil nodded as Remy started to leave the room. Just before Remy got to the door, Emil said,   
"Hey Rem?"

Remy paused at the door with Logan and raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Oui?"

Emil's eyes were filled with worry, concern and hope, all of which was overshadowed by the pain and exhaustion he was feeling. "Be careful."

Remy nodded. "I will."

To Be Continued…


	16. Part Sixteen

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Sixteen

'It's too quiet in here." Remy thought as he walked through the main floor of the safehouse. With so many people in and out of the place all the time, it was usually bustling with activity.

He took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, only to find silence on that level as well. Then he remembered the Professor telling him that Emil had said the assassins had the thieves in the basement. 

"Dat would explain de silence." He said grimly, making his way back down to the main floor so he could get to the basement.

Remy paused with his hand on the doorknob. He had to wonder what he would find when he went down there, and he admitted to himself (he would never have admitted it to anyone else) that he was worried and more than a little frightened at the possibilities. True, he had always been the outsider in the Guild, and his father had even kicked him out at one point, but now he was the Guild patriarch, and that meant something, even to him. He was so sick of the conflicts between the assassins and thieves, especially how Gris had it in for Emil like he did. He just wanted it to end. But when he went down there to confront Gris and the assassins, what would the outcome be?

Remy wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he also knew he didn't have a choice. If Emil had traveled all the way from Louisiana to New York when he was severely ill, it was important. The thieves had to be saved. That was all that mattered, to Emil. And to Remy. 

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Remy screwed up his courage and opened the door, heading down the stairs.

Remy turned pale when he saw what was going on in the basement. He had been able to slip in unnoticed by anyone save for Tante Mattie, who never missed anything. The old woman smiled slightly when she saw Remy, and he nodded at her, motioning for her to not let anyone know he was there.

Tante Mattie, Bella Donna, Theoren, Mercy and Zoe were lined up against one wall of the basement, tied up, but no longer gagged. Singer was standing watch over them, not saying a word, her eyes invisible behind her dark glasses. Remy briefly wondered why they had Bel tied up as well, but decided to find out the answer to that when it was safer to do so.

To one side of the room, close to the stairs, Genard was lying on the floor, unconscious. Remy looked at him quickly and saw that he had been severely beaten. In the middle of the room, Gris, Fifolet and Questa were handing the same punishment to Claude, who was putting up a fight but not really succeeding.

Remy sighed quietly, wondering what on earth he was going to have to do to stop this mess from continuing. As Gris grabbed Claude and slammed him against the wall, chuckling evilly as the thief fell to the floor in a heap, Remy stepped out of the shadows, deciding it was time to take action. What he had seen thus far was more than enough to piss him off.

"You boys jus' don' listen, do ya? I don' know how many times Bel an' I have told you to leave dem 'lone, but you jus' keep goin' at 'em. Well, t'ings are gon' change. Right now." Remy said. The three assassins froze and stared at Remy like he had two heads. From his spot on the floor, Claude had to smile even though he was in pain. The tables were about to turn.

***

Emil woke up a few hours after Remy left New York. The coughing fit he had upon waking affirmed what he already knew. He had a spitting headache. He sighed and opened his eyes, getting a surprise when he learned he wasn't alone in the room.

"Oh!" the young Asian woman exclaimed, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Emil figured she was probably around twenty-years-old, but then, he was no real judge of people's ages. "Hank told me you probably wouldn't wake up this soon…I'm sorry…" She faltered, averting her bright blue eyes.

"Dat's okay. Don' be sorry. I'm so tired dese days I'm kinda surprised I woke up myself. I'm Emil." Emil replied, smiling in spite of his aching throat and head.

"I'm Jubilee. Is there anything I can get you?" Jubilee asked, flashing him a bright smile and subconsciously running a hand through her shoulder-length black hair.

Emil thought for a moment before replying. "As a matter of fact…do you have any lime popsicles?"

Jubilee laughed. "Lime popsicles? I'm not sure, but I can check if you want."

"T'anks. Dey're my favorite kind. I've been cravin' dem since I got sick, but we didn' have any at home. An' could you get Dr. McCoy for me?"

Jubilee's face clouded over with a slight frown. "Sure, I can get Hank for you. Is somet'ing wrong?"

"Headache. Dat's all. I'm assumin' I need de doctor's permission to take somet'ing for it, since I'm on antibiotics." Emil replied.

"Oh, okay. Well, I'll tell Hank to come in, and I'll see about getting you that popsicle. If we don't have lime, what other flavor would you like?"

"Orange, s'il vous plait."

"Okay." Jubilee replied.

***

"Jubilee said you have a headache?" Hank said, joining Emil in the MedLab room with a smile on his furry face.

"Oui. Woke up wit' it. Can I have some Tylenol or somet'ing?" Emil asked, coughing some more.

"Of course. We can't have you suffering with headaches when you're trying to get better." Hank replied, handing his red-haired patient a glass of water and two small white pills. After Emil took the medication and handed the glass back to Hank, he continued. "Aside from the headache, how are you feeling?"

Emil pondered how to answer that question. As a thief, he wasn't used to confiding in people other than his Guild family. He didn't trust many people. However, he knew that Remy trusted the big blue man, and so he decided to tell Hank a little bit.

"Physically, I'm startin' to feel a little better. My throat doesn' hurt so much, I t'ink de antibiotics you have me on are workin'. Emotionally…." His voice trailed off. He didn't _really_ want to talk about it.

Hank raised his eyebrows. "I get the impression you aren't comfortable talking about it. Don't feel that you have to tell me anything."

Emil sighed. "I'm sorry, Dr. McCoy…"

"Don't be. It's alright." Hank replied as Jubilee bounced into the room, a smile lighting up her face.

"Hi! Sorry for taking so long, but I had to fight Bobby for the last lime popsicle. I won though!" she exclaimed, handing the popsicle to Emil. "Here you go, one lime popsicle, just for you." 

"T'ank you, Jubilee." Emil said, savoring the cold treat. It felt really good on his sore throat.

"If you two will excuse me, I have to talk to Professor Xavier about something." Hank said.

***

"You t'ink you can stop us, LeBeau?" Gris asked, ignoring Claude for the time being. 

Claude took advantage of this and crawled over to where Genard was lying on the floor. As hurt as he was himself, he turned his unconscious friend over and cradled him in his arms. Then, knowing that a fight was going to break out any second between Remy and the assassins, Claude did the smart thing and pulled himself and Genard out of the way.

Remy walked over to where Gris was standing and faced the large man unflinchingly. "I don' t'ink I can." He said. "I _know_ I can. Dis has gone on way too long, an' it's time to put an end to it."

Questa tried to sneak up on Remy from behind, but Remy saw or felt him coming and quickly flipped out a playing card. The second the card was charged with energy, Remy threw it at Questa, who just barely managed to leap out of the way before the card blew up. Questa didn't give up easily, though, and came after Remy again, but Remy decided to stop him. He threw card after card at the objects around them and blew a bunch of boxes and rubble down on top of the assassin, knocking him out and effectively taking him out of the game.

Fifolet tried the same thing, from the other side, but this time Remy's card trick didn't work quite so well because Fifolet made himself intangible and the card had no effect on him. With a slight grunt Remy grabbed Fifolet at the exact moment the assassin became tangible again, and flipped him over his shoulder, slamming him to the floor. 

Gris stood by and watched, along with everyone else. He clapped slowly when Remy was finished. "I'm impressed, LeBeau. Not many would be successful in doin' what you jus' did."

Remy cast a quick glance at his friends, at Bel. He was worried. He knew he would have to fight Gris, and he'd feel much better about it if they weren't present. He didn't want them to get any more hurt than they already were.

"Let dem go, Gris. You wan' fight, fine, we'll fight, mais leave dem out of it."

Gris-Gris snorted. "Let dem go? Leave dem out of it? Oh, LeBeau, I don' t'ink so. You see, I'm gon' win dis t'ing, I'm gon' have my way. I will _not_ lose. Dey are gon' die, an' so are you."

"Someday, oui, but not today, sorry." Remy replied, pulling out his bo staff. "You won' let dem go? Fine. I'm ready when you are, homme."

***

"Professor, I would like to have a word with you regarding our young thief patient." Hank said, entering Professor Xavier's office.

The Professor looked up. "Is something the matter, Hank?"

"I'm not sure, Charles. I was speaking with him a few minutes ago and I got the feeling he wasn't telling me everything."

"He's a thief, Hank. Remy still doesn't fully trust people either, you know that." Xavier replied. "I haven't been expecting Monsieur Lapin to be open with us, not when he just met us. He doesn't know us. Give him time, he might tell us more later. Perhaps when Remy returns."

Hank sighed and sat down. "I know what you're saying is correct, Charles, but I can't help thinking he's hiding some serious emotional baggage. Perhaps it would be useful if you or Jean would talk to him. It might help him get over his illness faster."

"I'll consider it, Hank. I can't promise you anything, but I will consider it. And I'll discuss it with Jean." Xavier said. "The last thing I want any of us to do is push in where we're not wanted."

Hank thought about that and nodded, getting up and leaving the room after thanking the Professor.

Xavier sighed and leaned back in his chair. He, too, had gotten that feeling from Emil, and it worried him. He felt that the young thief was suffering severe emotional damage, and he wanted to try to help him. However, what he had said to Hank was also true, and he decided upon thinking about it that he would not approach Emil about his problems until Remy was back.

"We need to know more before we can even begin to attempt to help him." He said quietly to the empty room.

To Be Continued…


	17. Part Seventeen

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Seventeen

"So Gris. We gon' fight or not?" Remy asked.

"Remy, chil', don' do dis…" Tante Mattie pleaded. She knew as they all did that Remy was more than capable of taking care of himself. But Gris-Gris was a big man, and a powerful one. 

Remy glanced at Tante Mattie with a dark expression on his face. "What else am I s'posed to do, stand here an' let dem kill you? Dat ain' acceptable. If Gris ain' gon' let you go an' stop dis nonsense, I don' have any other choice."

Tante Mattie wasn't prepared to accept that answer. She looked at Bella Donna. "Do you have any authority here?"

Bel shook her head. "If I did, do you t'ink I'd be sittin' here tied up wit' de rest of you?"

"Looks like you all lose." Gris sneered, pulling out a gun and aiming it at Remy's head.

"Gris!" Tante Mattie exclaimed. Before she could say another word, the gun blew up in the big man's hand.

Remy raised an eyebrow. "You forget, homme, dat I still have de abilities to charge objects without actually touchin' dem. Now, I don' wan' fight wit' you. If you insist on it, den fine. But Tante here seems to t'ink we can settle dis without fightin' an' I'd like to b'lieve dat. So, you wan' tell me what's been eatin' at you for de past little while?"

Gris sighed and turned away. He wanted to fight, he wanted to kill them all. Talking was pointless, in his opinion. They had talked before, and all that got them was more problems.

Remy noticed the look that crossed the black man's face. He knew Gris was angry, and he had an idea why. He just prayed he could convince Gris to knock off his antics and find a way to put up with it all.

"Gris, listen. Do you t'ink dis has been easy on any of us?" Remy asked as Fifolet and Questa got up off the floor and dusted themselves off. Genard had woken up as well, and was using Claude's shoulder as a pillow. "I don' t'ink any of us wanted dis unification, but we're stuck wit' it. We're stuck wit' each _other_."

"The very least we can do is make de best of it," Bella Donna continued. "So what if it goes 'gainst everyt'ing we know?"

"I won'." Gris replied bitterly, whirling and facing Bel. "I put up wit' bein' on deir side until now b'cause you said to, but I'm sick of it an' I won' do it any longer. An' if de only way to get out of it is to kill dem, den dat's jus' what I'm gon' do."

Remy sighed. "I can' let you do dat, Gris."

"Do you t'ink you have a choice, LeBeau?" Gris asked.

Remy was starting to think maybe he didn't, but he remembered something that might work. The assassins had all respected Marius Boudreaux a great deal. The mention of him might convince Gris to back down.

"Bel, what do you t'ink?" He asked his ex-wife. "Our fathers tried for a long time to achieve dis unification t'ing. I t'ink dey'd be pretty disappointed right now if dey could see how t'ings are turnin' out, don' you?"

Bella Donna smiled as she realized what Remy was trying to do. She nodded. "Papa may have disliked de t'ieves," she began. "Mais, he wanted dis unification, prob'ly as much as your father did. Dat's why I've been tryin' so hard. Oui, I t'ink he'd be very disappointed."

Gris folded his arms and remained silent. He was still angry, and he didn't want to admit that he was bothered by the idea that Marius would be upset over his actions.

Fifolet stayed where he was, but Questa walked over to Remy. He had never had any intentions to go as far as they did, and he felt bad about what had been done to the thieves.

"Hey, um, I know it don' mean much, but Fifolet an' I were kinda jus' followin' Gris' lead, ya know? Old habits are hard to break. We didn' mean for it to get dis outta hand." He said. Fifolet muttered something in agreement. Remy got the impression that Questa was more sincere in what he was saying than Fifolet, but that didn't bother him much. He knew it was a concession for any of them to be saying that kind of thing, and he accepted it.

"Okay. T'anks for sayin' dat, Questa." Remy replied. "Gris, I know you're angry, but I'm not fightin' you. Dis is what's gon' happen. I'm gon' untie dese guys, an' Tante's gon' go home. I t'ink a separation might be a good t'ing, so I'm takin' de others back to New York wit' me. We'll prob'ly be gone a couple of weeks."

"An' when dey get back, we're all gon' sit down an' figure dis whole mess out. Dere won' be any more fightin' among de members of dis Guild." Bella Donna said.

***

"Remy, is Emil okay?" Mercy asked as the thieves piled into the jet Remy had flown down to New Orleans. It took Theoren, Claude and Remy to help Genard into the plane. He wasn't in good shape.

"He was don' much better last time I saw him," Remy replied. "But right now I'm more concerned wit' dis guy." He helped Theoren get Genard settled, a worried expression on his face. "Are you okay, G?"

"It hurts." Genard replied, wishing he could see. His eyes were swollen almost shut, and every bone and muscle in his body was aching.

"What hurts, Genard?" Theoren asked.

"Everyt'ing. Even my teeth hurt."

Claude rubbed his bruised cheek. "I hear dat. Ol' Gris has quite de right hook. I t'ink he knocked a couple of my teeth loose too."

Remy sighed and sat down in the pilot's seat of the jet. "Well, we'll be in New York b'fore you know it an' Hank'll look after de two of you."

"Who is Hank?" Zoe wanted to know. She buckled her seatbelt and looked out the window.

"Friend of mine. Exceptional doctor, too. He's the one taking care of Emil." Remy told them. He made a mental note to warn them all about Hank's appearance before they actually met him though.

***

The halls of the Xavier School were silent. Remy couldn't believe it. After consulting with his watch and confirming that it _wasn't_ time for everyone to be in bed, he wondered what was going on, but dismissed the thought rather quickly. He wanted to get Genard and Claude into the MedLab as soon as possible, especially Genard. 

They ran into Jean just outside the MedLab.

"You're back!" She exclaimed in a hushed voice. "Your friend in there has been very worried about you. I'm glad to see everyone's okay…"  
Jean's voice trailed off as she got a look at Genard. "Or maybe not! Are you alright?" 

Genard groaned in pain. "Dat depends on your definition."

Jean sighed. "You don't look alright. Come in, please. Hank's inside."

The thieves followed Remy and Jean into the MedLab. They were not shocked to see Hank, thanks to Remy's warning when they were still in the jet. Emil was sleeping on one of the beds, and while they were glad to see he was okay, they decided not to disturb his much-needed rest.

"Oh my stars and garters!" Hank exclaimed upon seeing Genard. "I knew I was getting this bed ready for someone. Would you care to have a seat?"

"T'anks." Genard replied as Theoren helped him up onto the bed.

"Now," Hank continued. "I am Dr. Henry McCoy, but I hope that Remy has already mentioned this to you all. And this is Jean Grey. We have already met your friend Mr. Lapin over there, but I would like to know who the rest of you are."

"You can call me de human punching bag." Genard joked from the bed beside Hank.

Remy laughed. "I'll admit he does look like one, but callin' him dat isn' right. His real name is Genard Alouette."

"Well, Monsieur Alouette, before Remy introduces the rest of your friends, can you tell me who did this to you?" Hank asked with a kind smile as he examined Genard's swollen face.

"A very big assassin." Genard replied.

"Really?" Jean inquired. She wasn't saying much, mainly because she wasn't the doctor. 

"Oui. Same one who beat up Emil." Remy told her. "Anyway, to finish off de introductions, dis is my sister-in-law, Mercy, an' our friends Theoren Marceaux, Zoe Ishihara an' Claude Potier."

Hank and Jean said hello to the thieves, then Hank addressed Remy.

"Professor Xavier would like to talk to you. And I'm sure he would be delighted to meet your friends as well. I believe he is in his office. Why don't you go see him while I take care of Genard?"

Jean smiled at the thieves as they slowly made their way out of the MedLab. She could tell from the feelings and thoughts they were radiating that they didn't quite trust her or Hank totally, and were having second thoughts about leaving the MedLab. She didn't blame them for that; they had just met after all.

When they left, Hank looked at Jean. "They don't trust us much, do they?"

  
"No, but they trust Remy." Jean replied. 

Genard chuckled then groaned in pain. "Ouch! Remind me not to do dat 'gain, okay? Anyway, I was gon' say, dey trust Remy, oui, an' even t'ough it don' seem like it, dey do trust you, b'cause he does."

"I hope that is the case, as we would never hurt any of you." Hank told him.

"I know," Genard replied smiling in spite of his aching face. "An' if you can make de swelling go down in my face so I can put my glasses on 'gain an' actually _see_ you guys an' everyt'ing else, I'll be eternally grateful."

Hank laughed. "Well, my new Cajun friend, I promise to do my best."

"T'anks." Genard said, trying to get comfortable on the bed so Hank could do his job. 

While Hank was working on Genard's wounds, Emil woke up.

"Genard!" He exclaimed, sitting up in the bed. "What happened?"

"Hey Red." Genard replied from across the room. "Gris was giving out discounts on his beat-de-crap-outta-de-t'ieves treatment. Since you weren' dere, he took it out on me. He got Claude a bit too, but Remy got dere in time an' stopped him."

"Is it over?"

"Sorta. Remy took us all here, I t'ink mainly so Dr. McCoy here could fix me up, but also to give us a little separation time from de assassins. When we go back, we're gon' figure out how to end de mess without endin' de unification."

"If dat's even possible…" Emil muttered. "Where's everyone else den?"

"They went with Remy to see Professor Xavier." Jean told him.

"Ah. Cool." Emil replied. "Hey, um, Jean? Could you maybe get me a popsicle please? My throat kinda hurts."

"Sure," Jean said. "Any particular flavor?"

Emil thought for a moment. "Well, Jubilee said she had to fight some Bobby guy for de last lime one, so…orange please."

"Okay. I'll be back in a few minutes." She went to the door and paused when she got there. She looked back at Genard. "Would you like one too, Genard?" 

Genard attempted to look at Hank, but with little success given the fact that his face was swollen and he didn't have his glasses. "Can I, Dr. McCoy?"

Hank smiled. "I don't see why not. The coolness of it might even help bring down the swelling, who knows? It might be a new, breakthrough medical technique that no one has discovered yet."

"Whatever, Dr. McCoy. Yes, I'd like one please Jean." Genard said. "Cherry if you have one."

Jean smiled to herself as she walked to the kitchen to get the popsicles for the thieves. She was very impressed with both Emil and Genard. They were very polite and charming young men. She liked them. And she was sure she'd like the rest of the thieves once she got to talk to them a little more as well.

To Be Continued…


	18. Part Eighteen

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Eighteen

Professor Xavier waited in patient silence while Remy spoke to his friends. Only moments before, the professor had suggested the idea that either he or Jean go into Emil's mind in an attempt to bring him back from the dark place he was in.

Xavier had expected Remy, as Guild leader, would be the one to address him, but he was wrong. After a few minutes of discussion, it was Theoren Marceaux who spoke to the professor, his tone quiet and serious.

"Professor, we appreciate de offer, but I don' t'ink we can let you. We know what Emil's problems is, an' makin' a certain assassin stop hurtin' him is de way to make dat problem go away."

Xavier nodded. "That is true enough, perhaps, Theoren, but how do you get the emotional problem already caused by the physical problem to go away?" he asked in equal seriousness.

Zoe frowned. "I'm not sure I follow you, Professor." She said. "What do you mean?"  
The professor moved from behind his desk and joined the assembled thieves in front of it before responding to Zoe's question.

"Emil is emotionally unstable at this time, do you agree on that?" he asked. They nodded. "This instability was caused by the problems he's had with another member of his unified guild of yours, correct?"

"Professor, what are you getting at?" Remy asked, although he had a pretty good idea.

"If you stop this other person from hurting Emil, there will be no reason for this instability to get worse, but you won't be correcting the problem already there." Xavier replied. "That's what I'm getting at."

"We never t'ought of dat…" Mercy said contemplatively. "But it shouldn' be our choice to make."

"Non," Claude agreed. "It should be Emil's. An' it should wait 'til mornin'." He finished, trying to stifle a yawn and not quite succeeding.

"It is indeed late, and you have all had a rough few days." The professor conceded, smiling warmly at the tired thieves. "I asked Ororo to get the guest rooms ready, Remy, if you'd like to show your friends where they are." 

"T'ank you, Professor." Zoe said, not even attempting to hide her yawn. She was really tired, why hide it?

"If it's all de same to you, Professor, an' if Dr. McCoy is okay wit' it," Theoren commented. "Until Genard an' Emil are usin' dose guest rooms too, I'd like to stay wit' dem in de MedLab."

"Are you sure, Theoren?" Xavier asked.

"Oui." 

"Then it is fine by me, and I'm sure Hank won't object to it. Would you like me to show you the way back to the MedLab?"

"Non, merci. I know de way." Theoren replied, leaving the office.

'Remy…' Professor Xavier questioned in Remy's head, not wanting to share this question with the others. 'Why…?'

Remy smiled. 'He's de oldest, Professor.' He thought in return. 'Makes 'im act like a father from time to time. He's very protective of dem, especially Emil b'cause he's de youngest.'

'I thought Zoe was the youngest.' Xavier replied.

'She is, but I meant of de five of dem. Theo don' like me much, so he don' worry 'bout me too often. An' Zoe can take care of herself, prob'ly better den Theo can. Don' worry, he won' get in Hank's way. He jus' wants to keep an eye on dem, until dey're better.' Remy explained.

'All right.'

***

Hank and Jean both smiled with Theoren entered the MedLab. Genard had fallen asleep and was lying peacefully on one bed, but Emil was still awake, but was obviously very tired. Theoren joined him, standing beside the bed, his brown eyes filled with an unspoken worry.

"How you doin' kid?"

Emil sighed deeply. "Don' feel as sick." He replied vaguely.

"Theoren frowned. Genard must have been telling him the things that had happened in New Orleans. "Dat's not a bad t'ing…it's strange, you bein' so quiet." He joked. "Maybe you should get some more rest."

"Oui." Emil yawned, closing his eyes briefly, then opening them again when he thought of something. "You stayin' here?" he asked, hope in his eyes and voice. He felt much safer now that his family was there.

Theoren nodded towards Hank and Jean. "Oui, if dey'll let me."

Professor Xavier had contacted Jean and Hank both shortly before Theoren made it back to the MedLab, and has informed them of the thief's desire to stay with Genard and Emil. Neither one of them could see any problem with it.

Hank gestured at a third bed, neatly made. "You could use this if you'd like Theoren," he said, noting that Emil's eyes were closed again. He smiled as Theoren tried to hide a yawn. "That way you don't have to sleep on the floor or in a chair, and you'll be close if they need you."

A grateful smile crossed Theoren's features. "T'ank you." He replied. He couldn't help thinking, as he realized the Professor had told them he was coming, that he'd never understand telepaths. Suddenly, Jean's voice was in his head, startling him slightly.

'We're not that hard to understand.'

Theoren stared at her, his eyes wide. Professor Xavier had done that as well, after he and Remy had explained the whole telepathic ability and how it worked. Theoren didn't view it as an invasion of privacy, because he understood they weren't probing his mind for information; they were just talking to him. But it was slightly unnerving all the same.

'I need to get some sleep…' he thought, half-forgetting that Jean could hear him.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" Jean said aloud.

"Non! No, it's okay, I don' mind you talkin' to me like dat. I'm jus' really tired right now an'…" Theoren replied hastily.

'An' you're concerned about your friends." Jean finished in his mind.

Theoren nodded, a frown on his face as he lightly touched Emil's cheek. "Oui." He whispered softly. He then turned away, letting his young cousin get some much-needed rest. "Are you both gon' be here all night as well?" he asked.

Hank chuckled. "Oh my stars and garters no!" he said. "In fact, now that our two patients are asleep, we will be retiring to our rooms shortly."

"Okay…how do I…?" Theoren began.

"Hank showed him a communication device on the wall. "If you need us during the night, or rather, if they do, the green button is a direct link to my room, the yellow one is to Jean's."

"Or you could always just think something to me or the professor." Jean said. "If you can't get over here or some reason."

Theoren nodded again and Jean left the room.

"Do you have any other questions before I go as well?" Hank asked.

Theoren walked silently over and stood beside Genard, concern for his friend radiating off him in waves. "How bad are his injuries?" he asked quietly.

Hank stood across from him, on the other side of the bed. "It's not as bad as it looks, my friend. The swelling in his face should go down by morning. There is a great deal of bruising, but it will heal in time. He also has two broken ribs, but they, too, will heal."

"T'ank you, Dr. McCoy." Theoren said.

"Whatever for, Theoren?" Hank asked in surprise.

"For takin' care of dem." 

Hank smiled and headed for the door after checking the monitors one last time. "Well, aside from doing my job," he said, dimming the lights. "I am more than happy to help friends of Remy."

Theoren chuckled somewhat bitterly. "Ain' heard dat one often." He commented. "G'night Doc."

"Good night Theoren. Sleep well."

Theoren lay down on the bed Hank had given him and found himself watching Emil and Genard sleep. As hurt as they were, they were both content in sleep, he noticed, like they knew they were safe and found peace in the knowledge. 

Theoren smiled as this realization hit him, and he whispered,

"I haven' been doin' my job dat well, mes amis, but I promise you from now on I'll do whatever it takes to keep you an' de others as safe from harm as it's possible for us to be."

He then rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes, letting the low steady hum of the monitors lull him to sleep.

To Be Continued…


	19. Part Nineteen

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Nineteen

Hank walked into the MedLab early the next morning and found Jean standing there with a smile on her face.

"Shhh." She whispered. Hank was confused too, until he looked past her and realized why she was smiling. Genard was still peacefully sleeping in his bed, oblivious to what was going on, but across the room Theoren had moved from his bed and was laying asleep on Emil's bed, with Emil curled up beside him with his head resting on Theoren's chest.

As if he knew he was being watched, Theoren woke up. He looked at Hank and Jean with a quirky smile playing across his lips. He knew how strange it must have looked, but he also didn't care much.

"Mornin'." He whispered, careful not to move much or speak loudly. He didn't want to wake Emil up. The young thief had had a rough night.

"Is there an explanation for this, or are you going to let us use our imaginations?" Hank asked, returning the smile.

"Dere is. He had a nightmare. We were awake for half de night 'cause of it." Theoren explained.

"Ah. I see." Hank replied. "And is he okay?"

"Why don' you ask him yourself?" Theoren asked, noticing Emil's eyes opening drowsily. His arm tightened instinctively around Emil, who sighed and then yawned. Emil smiled slightly at Hank and Jean, and leaned closer to Theoren.

Jean and Hank looked at each other. It didn't seem to them like Emil was okay. Jean telepathically contacted Professor Xavier and asked him to join them in the MedLab. Then Jean looked at Theoren.

'The professor is on his way.' Her voice suddenly said in his mind. 'I don't think we should wait much longer to try and help Emil.'

Theoren sighed, feeling both protective of Emil and helpless because he knew he couldn't help the young man himself. 'Okay.' He thought back. 'I jus' hope de professor can help him.'

Jean smiled encouragingly. 'Have some faith. Professor Xavier is one of the strongest telepaths in the world. If anyone can help Emil, he can. Believe me.'

***

Professor Xavier entered the MedLab and surveyed the scene. Theoren had gotten up and was sitting in a chair beside Emil's bed. Genard was awake, sitting in bed watching everything. The swelling had gone down and he put his glasses on, but every muscle and bone in his body was aching, and every time he moved, he flinched. But it was Emil the professor was most interested in.

Emil was sitting up in his bed as well, his armed wrapped around his legs, his blue eyes filled with a pained desperation that almost frightened Xavier. Almost. 

"How are you this morning, Emil?" Xavier asked. "Jean tells me you had a nightmare last night?"

Emil looked steadily at the professor but didn't say a word. Xavier glanced at Theoren, who just shrugged. He knew Emil better than the professor, and if Emil didn't want to talk, Emil wasn't going to talk.

Xavier decided to try something else. "Did Theoren or anyone else tell you that Jean and I are both telepaths?"

Emil shook his head, ever so slightly, and remained silent.

"Do you know what a telepath is? Have you ever met one before?" The professor asked.

Emil shook his head again. Theoren decided to help the professor out a bit, because he saw that Xavier wasn't getting anywhere with Emil.

"Non, none of us have ever crossed paths wit' a telepath, Professor, mais, our good friend Tante Mattie is an empath. Dat's prob'ly de closest."

Xavier nodded at Theoren with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Theoren." He turned to Emil again. "You're not feeling well, are you Emil?"

Emil continued to sit there; the only movement he made was blinking his eyes. He stared at the professor, wondering just what Xavier was going to do, but afraid that if he went to say anything, he'd start crying.

"Emil, would you mind if I went into your mind and spoke to you there? That way, you can tell me whatever you want to, without anyone but me knowing. Would that be okay with you?" Xavier asked. "I want to try and help you, but I can't without your permission."

Emil glanced over at Theoren, uncertainty in his eyes. Theoren moved closer to him and spoke quietly. "It's okay Emil, you can trust him. He really wants to help you. If you say no, it'll be okay too, alright?"

The red-haired thief nodded and then looked back at the professor, sighing deeply. Xavier raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Emil nodded again, waiting.

The professor asked the others to give them some space. Even Theoren reluctantly got up and went over to sit with Genard, who was watching everything in awe.

"Are dey gon' do what I t'ink dey're gon' do?" Genard asked.

"Oui." Theoren replied. "Dey're gon' have a whole conversation, an' no one will be able to hear it but dem."

***

'Emil? Can you hear me?' Xavier asked silently. 'Just think whatever you want to say and I will hear you. You don't have to say anything out loud.'

'I can hear you, Professor.' Emil replied, marveling at the idea of being able to talk to someone without actually speaking. 'Where are we?'

'This is the astral plane. Back at the mansion, nothing has changed, we haven't gone anywhere, but in our minds, we have. Where would you like to start?'

'I dunno. I t'ought you knew what you wanted to do.'

Xavier sighed. 'Would you mind if I probed your mind? I want to help you, and the more information I have, the easier it will be for me. I promise you, anything I learn that I shouldn't, I will never tell another living soul.'

Emil considered for a moment. 'Go ahead, professor. I don' wan' feel like dis anymore.'

'I don't blame you.' Xavier replied, lightly probing Emil's mind for images and information. Then, as an image of Gris appeared, he said, 'Are dreadlocks still in fashion?'

Emil snickered. 'To him dey are.'

'And he is…?'

Emil started to retreat into himself, wishing he hadn't agreed to this. Then he remember how painful the whole thing was, and how rotten he felt, and answered the professor's question. 'His name's Gris-Gris. He's de assassin who's been hurtin' me.'

'I see. The thieves and assassins have never been friends, have they?' Xavier asked.

'Non. Dis unification b'tween de two Guilds has been hard on everyone.' Emil admitted.

'It's not Gris-Gris who is causing all this emotional distress, is it?' the professor asked, trying to get to the root of Emil's problems.

'Non…not entirely. Havin' de crap beat outta me isn' 'xactly fun, but I can handle it. Been in de Guild my whole life, after all.'

'So, what is it then?'

'When I was a kid, few months b'fore I turned thirteen, Gris an' Julien…he was de son of de assassin leader…led a team of assassins…dey broke into my house an' murdered my parents. I watched dem do it.' Emil said softly, his eyes swimming with tears. He turned away, pain radiating from him.

Professor Xavier went over and put a hand on Emil's shaking shoulder. 'You haven't gotten over it.' A comment, not a question.

Emil looked at him through his tears. 'Would you? I'll never be over it, for as long as I live. I miss dem so much…I'm not some person who doesn' have any feelin's or emotions, compris? I hate dem. I hate _him_. An' every time he does somet'ing to me, it jus' makes it worse.'

'I'm sorry, Emil.' Xavier said, finally starting to understand why the young thief was so emotionally drained. 'Perhaps the unification wasn't a good idea…'

'De unification itself isn' a bad idea, not really. We all jus' have to learn how to work together instead of tryin' to kill each other.' Emil replied. 'In fact, it's de one t'ing Gris an' I have in common: we both hate it.'

'Your friends are very worried about you. Do you think you can come out of this emotional state somewhat? It might be good for all of you.' The professor commented.

Emil sat down, to the professor's surprise. 'It jus' hurts so much…' he said, sobbing quietly. 'Sometimes…I don' know what to do.'

"Have you talked to your friends about this?' Xavier asked.

'Non…I haven' talked 'bout my parents since I was a kid.' Emil admitted. 'I jus' kinda tried not to t'ink 'bout it.'

'Perhaps you should. You won't be staying here. Theoren and the others might be able to help you. Maybe you could try telling this Tante Mattie person about it first? Remy has spoken of her, he says she's a remarkable woman.'

'Oui, she is. Uh…Professor, can we stop dis now?' Emil asked.

'Are you up for it?'

Emil nodded. 'Oui.'

***

"Whoa…" Emil whispered. "Dat was weird."

Theoren and Genard looked at him from the other bed. "Is everyt'ing okay, Red?" Genard asked.

Emil glanced briefly at the professor, who smiled. "Yeah…" he said. "Yeah, it is."

Professor Xavier silently told Jean and Hank that they should leave the three thieves alone for a few moments. They filed out of the room, Hank mentioning that they wouldn't be far.

Theoren and Genard got up and went over to Emil. Genard took the chair, while Theo sat beside Emil, wrapping his strong, protective arms around his cousin.

"I wan' go home." Emil whispered, leaning against Theoren.

"Soon, kid. I promise." Theo replied.

Genard frowned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Emil sighed and closed his eyes. "Non. But I t'ink I will be. Eventually."

Emil knew that while talking to Tante Mattie and the others would help him get out of the dark tunnel he was in, he would also have to talk to Gris. No fighting, no conflict, just talking. And given Gris' temper, and given the fact that Gris had a habit of beating people up first and asking questions second, that was not going to be an easy thing to do.

To Be Continued…


	20. Part Twenty

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Twenty

Four days later, Remy and the thieves were sitting around the rec. room with Jean, Logan, Jubilee, Bobby and Professor Xavier. Genard had been released from Hank's care two days prior, and had joined them, but Emil was still in the MedLab on antibiotics, getting better. Or so everyone thought.

They were talking when Hank entered the room and cleared his throat. "I would like to announce the return to the real world of Monsieur Emil Lapin, who has been an exceptional patient of mine for the past week."

Emil shook his head as he walked in behind Hank, a quirky grin on his pale face. "You're somet'ing else, Doc."

"How are you feeling, Emil?" Zoe asked, motioning for him to sit down by her. He did so and looked at her, smiling.

"Better. Not a hundred percent, but I'm getting dere." He coughed. His blue eyes had regained some of their natural sparkle, but there was still a hint of dullness that alerted the thieves to the fact that while he was feeling better, he was still wrestling with the emotional stuff.

"I guess dis means we're goin' home soon." Claude commented.

"Oui, dere's no real reason to stay here anymore." Remy sighed. "I jus' hope solvin' de Guild's problems won' be as hard as I t'ink it will be."

"You never know…" Emil said cryptically. And he didn't elaborate on what he had said, even though his comment generated looks from the X-Men and his fellow thieves. Emil wasn't sure if the talk he knew he had to have with Gris would actually help matters, but he was going to try, for both his own personal well-being and the well-being of the Guild as whole.

***

"Okay, Remy. See you tomorrow." Bella Donna said before hanging up the phone. She sat back on the couch in the safehouse living room and sighed. Remy had just called her to say the thieves were returning to New Orleans in the morning, and she now had to break the news to the other assassins. They had all be fairly happy for the days the thieves hadn't been around and she had a feeling they weren't going to be too impressed with the idea that the thieves were coming back so soon.

Bella Donna got up and headed to the kitchen, where she knew Gris, Fifolet, Questa and Singer were getting something ready for supper.

"Who was on de phone, Bel?" Questa asked as he chopped up some onions.

"Remy." Bel replied briefly.

Fifolet glanced at her sharply. "Dey comin' back?"

"Oui, tomorrow." She admitted. "An' tomorrow night we're gon' see what we can do 'bout de problems b'tween de people in dis Guild."

"I'll stop tryin' to kill dem without reason," Gris conceded. "But de second Lapin says somet'ing I don' like…"

"We'll talk 'bout it tomorrow, Gris." Bella Donna told him. "But don' you t'ink dat's goin' a bit too far? Hurtin' him is what got de others angry in de first place."

"I don' care." Gris snapped, and walked out of the room, followed by Fifolet, leaving the others to finish making supper.

"He won' change, Bel." Questa commented, watching his friends leave. "He hates Emil. De rest of us don' feel dat strongly, I don' know why he's been actin' de way he has. I guess Emil jus' gets on his nerves."

"Well it's gon' have to change. It can' continue." Bella Donna said, turning on the oven and starting to fry the ham, onions and green peppers. Nearby, Singer stirred up the eggs, getting them ready to add to the mix. They were making western sandwiches, something Remy had told them about.

***

Late the next morning, Remy and the thieves returned to the Guild safehouse. Their spirits weren't low, but they were calm and a little apprehensive. The next few hours were going to be crucial in keeping the Guild unified.

Bella Donna met them in the front hallway, obviously apprehensive herself about what was going to happen. She knew the two Guilds could survive as separate units, they had done so for over a century already. But she also knew the prophecies said they should be unified, and right now, that unification was in jeopardy. She looked specifically at Emil.

"How are you?" she asked.

Emil smiled. "I'm doin' better, t'anks."

"How are t'ings lookin' here, Bel?" Theoren asked. He was having a hard time not taking charge of the situation. He had been the second in command of the Thieves Guild, a position that he had not taken lightly. 

"For de most part, I t'ink t'ings are okay…" Bella Donna replied with a raise of her eyebrows. "Mais, Gris is gon' be a problem. He's still sayin' dat if Emil says one t'ing dat pisses him off, he's gon' do somet'ing."

Emil sighed. Of course it would be this way. He wasn't surprised. He didn't like it, but it didn't surprise him. It just made him realize even more that he and Gris had to talk.

The thieves went and got resettled in the safehouse while Bella Donna went to assemble the assassins. Initially, she and Remy had decided to have the meeting in the evening, but upon the thieves' return, they changed their minds and thought it would be best to get it over with as soon as possible.

When the thieves started filing into the living room, the assassins were already there waiting, with the exception of Bella Donna. She and Remy were going to be the last ones to arrive, wanting to see what the others could do on their own first. They were testing the Guild waters, so to speak.

Gris and Emil eyed each other but didn't say a word. Like they had before, the thieves were on one side of the room, the assassins on the other. Not a word was spoken between any of them. This meeting wasn't their idea, and because it wasn't, they weren't going to instigate it.

Remy and Bella Donna entered the room and when they realized the silence wasn't on their behalf, they glanced at each other. They both knew accomplishing an actual peaceful union was not going to be an easy task.

"You all know why we're here." Remy began. "I know I'm only patriarch of dis Guild by de skin of my teeth, an' de irony of dat isn' lost on me. However, b'cause I _am_ de patriarch of dis Guild, an' b'cause Bella Donna, as my viceroy, agrees wit' me on dis issue, we are all gon' sit in dis room until we come up wit' a workable solution to make de unification work."

"De definition of a workable solution is a solution where no one gets hurt, an' no one dies. Period." Bel continued with a pointed look in the general direction of the other assassins. She didn't want to single Gris out, but she knew as well as everyone in the room that he was the real instigator of the problems in the Guild. "We're stuck wit' dis, an' we're gon' work together to figure out how to make it work effectively for our own benefit, both as a group an' as individuals. Any questions?"

Continued silence met Bel's question. That silence was broken by a question from Genard.

"Where's Tante Mattie?"

"In de kitchen. She didn' want to be part of de meetin', but she felt dat she might be needed at some point, so she's stickin' 'round." Remy told him. "On top of dat, she's makin' us some food, b'cause like I said, we're not leavin' dis room until a solution has been agreed on by all of us."

"Dis gon' be a _long_ day." Claude muttered to Emil and Mercy, both of whom almost laughed. They agreed with him. Emil especially agreed, because while he was feeling better, he was still on the antibiotics and he wasn't one hundred percent well yet. The day had already been long to him, in spite of the early hour, and he was tired. The idea of sitting there for hours arguing over solutions made his head hurt.

***

Some fifteen hours later, around two-thirty in the morning, the group was still sitting in the same spots. Not one of them had moved, save to go to the washroom, and they had only been allowed to leave for that purpose as long as they were back in the living room in three minutes. Remy and Bel could be a fairly strict when it counted, they saw. For the first seven or eight hours, they had done their best to come up with solutions, but for the most part, it was Remy and Bella Donna who were tossing out ideas, trying to get reactions from their Guild. Finally, in desperation, Bel said,

"We could always say to hell wit' de unification an' go back to two separate Guilds. I mean who cares what de prophecies say?"

At that, Emil, who had been trying his hardest not to fall asleep for most of the meeting, started laughing uncontrollably. 

"What's so funny, Lapin?" Gris demanded, annoyed.

Emil attempted to stop laughing and only ended up laughing harder when he saw the look on Gris' face. "Oh c'mon, Gris! You've been sayin' dat exact same t'ing for months now. Don' you t'ink it's funny dat dey're finally considerin' it?"

"No I do not." Gris replied.

Genard, the Guild's resident 'Star Trek' fanatic, started chuckling. He desperately tried to hide it, not wanting to annoy Gris further, but he really couldn't help it. The big assassin sounded for all the world like Lieutenant Worf from STNG.

Zoe poked Genard in the ribs, seeing the glare he was getting from Gris. "Genard, stop it!" she hissed. Genard just laughed harder, and no one else in the room had any idea what exactly he was laughing at. It didn't matter though, because laughter is contagious. With both Emil and Genard practically falling on the floor laughing, soon Questa, Fifolet, Singer, Claude, Zoe and Mercy had all started laughing as well.

Remy and Bella Donna looked at each other. It occurred to them that the others were tired and getting punchy, hence the spontaneous laughing fit that overtook the majority of them.

"You t'ink maybe we should call it a night?" Remy asked, a smile playing across his lips. He had to admit he wanted to laugh too. It had been a very long day, and they had gotten absolutely nowhere. Or so he thought.

Bel smiled and shook her head slightly. "Not jus' yet. I t'ink our problem might be on de way to bein' solved."

"How do you figure _dat_?" Remy asked. "Dey're all laughin' like hyenas. Dat's not solvin' de problem."

"Perhaps not, Remy, but it's a start, isn' it? When has dis ever happened b'fore? Sure, most of dem don' know _why_ dey're laughin', but dat' isn' de point. It doesn' matter why dey're laughing. It jus' matters dat dey _are_. Let's let dem laugh for awhile, see where it leads."

"Are you crazy?" Theoren and Gris asked at the same time, both having overheard the conversation. They eyed each other warily. Neither one of them liked the display of hilarity their friends were showing, but they also didn't like the fact that Bel thought it should be allowed to continue. It wasn't getting them anywhere.

"Aren' we all?" Bel replied with a charming smiled. "When dey've stopped laughing, tell dem de meetin's adjourned. We'll continue after everyone gets up in de mornin'."

***

The next day, after everyone had gotten as good a night's sleep as they could, they assembled in the living room again, sheepish smiles on some of their faces. After they had broken up the meeting the night before, Genard had refused to tell anyone except Emil why he had started laughing. Emil agreed that it was hilarious, and promised not to tell anyone if asked.

The meeting didn't last long. Fifolet, Questa and Singer had spoken after the previous meeting, before going to bed, and they agreed that the hostilities had to end.

"We were talkin', an' well, we don' want de problems to continue either." Fifolet said. "Bel, if you an' Remy want peace in dis Guild, den as far as de three of us are concerned, dat's what you'll get."

Eyebrows were raised around the room as the others listened to what Fifolet had to say. 

"T'ank you. Dat means a lot." Remy said.

"It's jus' getting old, ya know?" Questa asked. Remy and Bella Donna both nodded, understanding exactly what he meant.

Gris stood without word and stalked out of the room. He wasn't impressed with the way things were going and wanted no part of it. He also wanted no part of a continuation of the unification.

"Gris!" Bel yelled after him, but he kept going, ignoring the former assassin matriarch. Sighing, Bel sat down in defeat. "Great. I don' t'ink anyt'ing can change his attitude."

"Strange as it might sound, I might be able to." Emil said quietly, going to the door.

"Emil, he tried to kill you!" Mercy exclaimed. "What makes you t'ink you can make him see reason?"

"I know, I know. I jus' t'ink I can. I have an idea. It might not work, but it's worth a shot. An' if I start yellin' for help, I do expect you all to come save me." Emil replied, leaving the room and heading for the kitchen. That's where Gris had been heading when he left, so Emil figured it was a good place to start looking for the assassin.

When he saw Gris standing in the kitchen looking out the window, Emil was filled with apprehension. He was about to start a very difficult conversation with a very dangerous, very big man who hated him and wanted to kill him. Emil wasn't looking for a fight, even though he wasn't all that fond of Gris either. He just wanted to talk, and he hoped Gris wouldn't make it any harder than it already was.

To Be Continued…


	21. Part Twenty-One

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Twenty-One

"What do you want, Lapin?" Gris-Gris asked harshly without turning around. At first Emil was startled by the sudden question; he hadn't realized Gris knew he was in the room. Then it occurred to him that Gris had probably seen his reflection in the window.

"I…uh…can we talk?" Emil stammered, wishing he was anywhere else. He had a feeling it wasn't going to go well at all, but now that the question was asked, he couldn't back down.

Gris turned around and faced Emil, his eyebrows raised. He hadn't expected such a question from the young thief. From Theoren, perhaps, or even Remy, but not Emil. Gris had to wonder what was up. "Bel an' LeBeau send ya?"

"Non. I t'ink if either of dem t'ought dey could talk to you 'bout dis, dey would've come demselves." Emil replied.

"You t'ink you can make me see reason, punk?" Gris sneered. "Stop wastin' your time."

"Tryin' to make you see reason ain' exactly why I came after you, Gris." Emil admitted. "I realized while I was in New York dat you an' I need to talk."

"I don' need to talk to anyone, least of all you, Lapin. Save it." Gris began to leave the room, but what Emil said next stopped him in his tracks with curiosity.

"Has it ever occurred to you dat de t'ings I say don' annoy anyone around here but you?"

Gris stayed by the door but turned his head and looked at Emil, a questioning expression in his dark eyes. "What 'bout Marceaux?"

Emil chuckled. "Oui…Theo gets annoyed wit' me, mais he's my cousin an' he's known me since I was born. He's used to me. He don' say much 'bout it anymore."

Emil sat down at the table and motioned for Gris to join him. Gris sat across from him, hostility emanating from his every movement. "How come ya push all my buttons an' no one else's?" He asked gruffly. He didn't like the conversation at all, but he was curious all the same. Of course, he would never admit_ that_ to anyone.

"B'fore I answer day, why do you hate me so much?" Emil wanted to know.

Gris frowned. "You're an obnoxious little punk you needs to grow up and learn dat you can' jus' say whatever you t'ink." 

"Go ahead, Gris. Don' hold back. Tell me how you really feel." Emil snickered sarcastically. He really couldn't help himself; Gris made it so easy.

Gris' frown deepened into an actual scowl. He didn't say one word. He didn't have to.

Emil stopped snickering. "Okay, okay. Point made. But you gotta admit, you made dat on real easy."

"I don' have to admit not'ing." Gris snapped. "You gon' answer my question or not?"

"God, your impatient." Emil muttered. He clapped a hand over his mouth in horror. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but like a lot of things, it just slipped out before he could stop it.

"Lapin…" Gris said, his voice dangerously low and menacing. His eyes were flashing angrily. It was clear he was losing patience with Emil, who noticed and smartened up immediately.

"T'ing is, Gris, I don' like you any more den you like me. To be honest, I've hated you for years, an' not jus' b'cause I'm a t'ief an' you're an assassin. To answer your question, I guess I do an' say t'ings to annoy you b'cause I can' exactly kill you, much as I'd…" Emil's voice trailed off. He didn't really want to say the words. Killing people was not the way of the Thieves Guild, although sometimes they overlooked that for the sake of ridding the world of an assassin or two.

The two men sat across from each other in silence for a few moments, letting the words hang in the air between them. The only sounds to be heard in the kitchen were the clock on the wall ticking off every passing second, and water dripping in the sink. Aside from those two sounds, the silence in the room was deafening, until Gris finally spoke.

"You want me dead." It wasn't a question.

Emil sighed deeply and nodded in agreement. He wasn't about to deny it, seeing as he'd wanted the other man dead since he was a kid.

Gris noticed the sadness that crept onto Emil's features and asked in as non-hostile a voice as possible,

"Why?"

Emil sighed again. "I didn' t'ink you'd remember. Den 'gain, you prob'ly didn' even know at de time...How good is your memory, Gris?"

Gris stiffened again, glaring at Emil. "What has _dat_ got to do wit' anyt'ing?" he demanded.

"Jus' wonderin' if you can remember somet'ing you an' Julien did t'irteen years ago, dat's all." Emil replied quickly, realizing that he had inadvertently said something annoying again. "Marius didn' order it, it was somet'ing de two of you did on your own."

The sadness that was evident on Emil's face and in his eyes had made it's way into his voice before he finished speaking and he was very close to tears. The memories were not happy ones; they were, in fact, really very painful.

"Julien an' I didn' do many t'ings dat Marius didn' order." Gris commented. "Or rather, I didn'. Julien had his own agenda." Gris thought for a minute, trying to place what Emil was referring to. It didn't take him long to remember. "De t'ing dat stands out from 'bout dat long 'go is when he an' I killed Francois an' Marie Lapin. Marius was really pissed at us for dat one, I guess b'cause Marie was Jean-Luc LeBeau's sister."

Emil raised his eyebrows, silently inviting Gris to make the connection. That didn't take long either. Gris wasn't a stupid man.

"I don' see what dat has to do wit…oh. Your parents."

"Wow, I'm impressed Gris! You figured it out all on your own! What kinda sticker do you want, a smiley-face or a star?" Emil replied quietly, his voice full of sarcasm and pain. "Ya wan' know what's worse den comin' home an' findin' out somebody broke into your house an' murdered your parents?"

"What?" Gris asked, deciding not to glare at Emil for his previous comments.

"Bein' dere an' watchin' it happen." Emil said, tears springing to his eyes in spite of his best efforts to stop them. "I was twelve, Gris. Jus' a kid. I still have nightmares 'bout it sometimes."

"What do you want me to say, Lapin? 'I'm sorry'?" Gris asked darkly.

Emil snorted. "Why start now? You're de big bad assassin, you're never sorry for anyt'ing you do."

"Den what's your point?"

"De point, Gris, is dat I hate you more'n you hate me, an I t'ink I have a better reason. An' since we both hate de unification, how 'bout we put our personal differences aside an' at least pretend to accept it? De others're all workin' pretty hard to make it work, you know. Dey'll never have to know de truth unless we tell dem, either. What do you say?" Emil asked, hoping for the best.

"Non." Gris replied shortly. He got up and headed for the door. "De unification is a foolish waste of time an' dey'll realize dat soon enough. I won' have any part in it, even pretend." He said, pausing at the door. He turned back and stared at Emil. "If you're as smart as you are obnoxious, you'll watch what you say 'round me in de future, Lapin, or you'll find yourself joinin' your parents."

Emil sighed as Gris left the kitchen, slamming the door on his way out. "Don' you t'ink dere've been times when I wanted to?" he asked the empty room, tears running down his cheeks in silent rivers.

Ten minutes later, emotions in check, Emil rejoined the others in the living room, glad to see that Gris wasn't there. The renewed sparkle was gone from his eyes again, having been replaced by a sad dullness that even the assassins couldn't miss.

"Emil, what happened?" Theoren asked, concerned. "Gris stormed out of de house 'bout ten minutes ago without stoppin' to say a word to de rest of us."

"I had an idea I t'ought might work." Emil chuckled sadly. "I know a lot of his attacks 'gainst me are de result of t'ings I say, an' I t'ought if he knew why I say dem, he'd lighten up an' come 'round. I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"You tried Emil. Dat's all any of us can do." Bella Donna said softly.

None of them asked what Emil was talking about. Most of them had a good idea that whatever caused Emil to say stupid things to Gris was also the reason for his downward emotional spiral. They also knew that if he wanted them to know, he'd tell them, in his own good time.

To Be Continued…


	22. Part Twenty-Two

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Twenty-Two

"If you gon' come in, den do it, chil'." Tante Mattie said without turning around. She was busy lighting candles in her living room, and putting them on the mantle piece. The flickering glow gave the room a friendly yet somewhat eerie appearance, but it didn't bother Remy any. He walked into the room with a sigh and sat down, waiting for her to finish.

"Somet'ing's troublin' you, boy. What's on your mind?" Mattie asked.

"I'm a failure, Tante." Remy replied, sighing again.

Tante Mattie finally turned around, eyebrows raised, a concerned look on her kind face. "How so, Remy?"

"De unification is gon' be a failure, all b'cause I can' get Gris to see reason and stop bein' a jerk. An' I couldn' help Emil when it counted, when he needed me to." Remy explained.

"In de case of de unification, from what Bella Donna told me, de only problem is Gris. De others are all tryin' to make it work, correct?" Mattie asked.

"Oui…but Gris' an awful big problem, an' he seems to t'ink de unification will fail wit' or without him." Remy replied. He didn't like that thought at all, he knew everything happened for a reason, including his father leaving and the guilds unifying. The idea that it could all be worth diddly squat wasn't appealing at all, not after all the hard work he, Bel and the others were putting into it.

"True, mais, dere's a bad seed in ev'ry bunch, chil'." Mattie said softly. "An' in regards to Emil, I t'ink you might have helped him more den you know when you left him wit' de X-Men."

Remy was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Don' get me wrong, Remy. He's not better. But he _is_ getting better. I t'ink it's gon' take awhile for him to fully recover, but he came to see me earlier an' he's don' better. De problem wit' him isn' de way Gris' been treatin' him lately, it goes much deeper den dat. He tol' me all 'bout it, an' when he's ready, he'll tell you an' de others too. He needs all de help we can give him. An' maybe more important, all de love an' support."

***

"Hey guys, can I talk to you for a minute?" Emil asked. He didn't look happy at all as he stood in the entrance of the safehouse living room. His arms were wrapped around his midsection as if he was trying to protect himself from some unseen enemy. He had obviously been crying and looked as if he would start again at any moment.

Theoren and Claude looked at each other, curiosity and concern mirrored in their faces. They moved over on the couch so there was a space between them and commanded in unison,

"Sit."

Emil sighed deeply and did as he was told. Claude put a hand on Emil's slumped shoulder. "What's wrong, kid?"

"I can' keep playin' dis game…I'm too tired of it." Emil replied. "Hell, I t'ink it's slowly but surely killin' me. Dat's a pretty good reason to stop right dere, non?"

"What game is dat?" Theo asked.

"De one I've been playin' since I was a kid." Emil explained. "I guess I had myself convinced dat if I pretended it didn' happen, an' if I didn' talk 'bout it, I wouldn' have to deal wit' it."

Claude was confused, but Theoren got a knowing look in his eyes. "Ah…I see. Dis whole t'ing wit' you isn' really 'bout how Gris' been treatin' you. Dat jus' adds to de problem."

Emil nodded. "Oui, pretty much."

"Okay, earth to you guys. Would you care to tell me what you're talkin' 'bout? I mean I know I was here for it, but a refresher for de ol' memory would be nice." Claude complained.

A ghost of a smile crossed Emil's face, but he didn't answer the question. Theoren had to do it for him. "We're talkin' 'bout when Julien an' Gris killed his parents."

"Oh." Claude said quietly. "You don' talk 'bout dem much, do you?"

"Nope." Emil replied. "An' if anyone other den Gris had been pickin' on me, I wouldn' be talkin' 'bout it now."

"You really miss dem, don' you?" Theoren commented.

"Well yeah. I didn' talk 'bout it, or dem, b'cause it hurt. It still does. I kinda buried it, ya know, so I wouldn' have to deal wit' it. De professor got it all outta me, t'ough, when we were in New York, an' he said it might help me get over my problems if I talked 'bout it. Tante Mattie agrees wit' him." Emil told them.

"Is dat what you were talkin' to Gris 'bout yesterday?" Claude asked suddenly. "Was dat your big idea?"

Emil sighed. "Yeah…I t'ought maybe if he knew how I felt an' why I say de t'ings I say to him, if he knew dat I hate him more den he hates me, he'd lighten up some. Lotta good t'inking _dat_ did me."

"Don' be so hard on yourself. Like Bel said, all any of us can do is try to reason wit' him. He's not de easiest person in de world to get along wit' on a good day. An' he's pretty against de unification." Theoren said. "…Are you gon' be okay?"

"Eventually, yeah. I mean, I _am_ getting better, but I got a long ways t'go b'fore I'm over all dis. I t'ink I'm for quite de emotional journey…"

"Long as you know you're not alone on dis journey of yours, okay?" Claude said. 

Theoren nodded. "Oui. We're here for you, no matter what you need. De others will be too, once dey know what's goin' on wit' you. We're a fam'ly, we'll stick by you t'rough all dis."

"T'anks guys. Dat means more den I t'ink you realize."

***

By the end of the day, Emil had talked to the others about his problems as well, and, like Theoren and Claude, Mercy, Genard, Remy and Zoe all agreed to help him in any way he needed them to.

Emil had just gotten ready for bed and was about to turn out the light in his room when there was a knock on his door. He frowned at the clock, wondering who the hell would want to talk at such a late hour, and said,

"C'min."

Emil had been expecting his visitor to be Remy, or Theoren, or perhaps Tante Mattie, but he got the surprise of his life when Questa walked in, a sheepish, uncertain look on his face. "Uh…hi."

"What's up, Q?" Emil asked, trying to hide a sigh. He didn't really want to talk to the assassin, but he figured he might as well talk to the guy.

"Well, I actually jus' came from talkin' to Genard. I realized we never apologized to you guys for beatin' ya up de other week dere. I don' know if Fifolet's gon' apologize too, an' I'm pretty sure Gris won', but for what it's worth, I'm sorry." Questa said.

Emil blinked. This had been the very last thing he expected to hear from any assassin. "I accept your apology, but why are you doin' dis?"

"We gotta make dis unification work, right? Well, it might be easier if we cleared de slate an' started over, compris?"

"Oui…is dere any way you can convince Gris to do dat too?"

Questa chuckled. "Sorry. Don' t'ink so. Gris' one of a kind, he follows his own rules an' no one else's. Not even Bel can really tell him what to do sometimes."

"Ah well, figured askin' couldn' hurt." Emil sighed.

"Anyway, it's late. See you in de mornin' Lap…Emil."

Emil smiled. "G'night Questa."

After Questa left Emil's room, Emil turned the light off and lay flat on his back in bed, the covers pulled up around his body. He stared into the darkness, letting his eyes adjust to the lack of light. He allowed himself to think about his parents for the first time since their death, without anyone else questioning him or probing him about it, and when he felt the tears welling up in his eyes, he let them come.

He knew that finally actually grieving for his parents after keeping his emotions bottled up all these years would help him in the long run. And that was something he was more than willing to do in order to try and end the depression that had been gripping him and running his life recently.

To Be Continued…


	23. Part Twenty-Three

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

  
Part Twenty-Three

Emil lay there in his dark room, oblivious to anything but his grief. It felt as though someone had blown up a dam he had built in his soul and that all the feelings and sadness that had been blocked by that dam were flooding out in a continuous wave of tears. He did nothing to stop those tears; instead letting them flow, his pillow becoming more and more soaked with each passing moment.

He hadn't noticed anyone entering his room, but before he realized he wasn't alone, someone had pulled him to a sitting position and was holding him, not saying a word. Emil opened his eyes and through his tears he saw that it was Claude. He subconsciously tried to stop crying, but Claude shook his head, his brown hair falling into his eyes.

"Don'." Claude whispered. "Jus' go wit' it. You didn' see any reason to stop cryin' when you were by yourself, an' dere isn' any reason to stop now. Jus' hold onto me instead of your pillow, okay?"

Emil nodded, the tears flowing once more. He felt almost as if he couldn't control them, but he also didn't want to, not just yet. He leaned against Claude, taking comfort in the fact that he didn't have to hug a wet pillow anymore, and gripped the T-shirt Claude was wearing with one trembling hand. 

Claude instinctively started rocking back and forth slowly, remembering that when Emil's parents had been killed, Emil hadn't really grieved for them. He had been too angry, too confused. It occurred to Claude that what Emil had said earlier in the day had been true; Emil had just buried the painful feelings and pretended for thirteen years that those feelings weren't there. And now those feelings, all that horrible grief, was coming to the surface, demanding to be felt.

Eventually, Claude felt that if he kept rocking, he'd rock them both right off the bed. That thought almost got a chuckle out of him, but he knew it wasn't the time or the place for laughter. As gently as he could, he moved back and leaned against the wall to give his back some support, taking Emil will him.

Emil's uncontrollable crying had changed as the time passed; he was now sobbing quietly, and Claude kept his arms protectively around his young friend, knowing Emil needed the comfort.

Shortly before dawn, Emil finally fell asleep and Claude breathed a small sigh of relief. 'Now I know what Theo went t'rough de first night we realized how bad off Emil was.' He thought. He was exhausted, not having gotten even a minute's sleep all night. As the early morning sunlight started to filter into Emil's room through the curtains on the window, Claude followed Emil's example and closed his eyes, hoping he could at least get a couple hours' sleep before everyone started disturbing them.

Four hours later, Emil woke up, feeling a bit stiff, but otherwise comfortable. He looked up at Claude and a grateful smile passed over his lips. If Claude hadn't come along, Emil didn't know what he would have done.

When he moved, Claude woke up, opening his brown eyes wearily. He was _not_ ready to get up just yet, and he groaned reluctantly. "Is it mornin' yet?"

The ghost of a chuckle escaped from Emil. "Oui."

"Damn. How ya doin'?"

"Not bad. Not good, but not bad either. T'anks for stayin' wit' me. I don' know what I would've done if you hadn'." Emil admitted.

"Good t'ing I love you, kid…" Claude mumbled, trying to stretch his stiff, sore back. "Oooh…my back hates me…"

Emil glanced away, sadness filling his expression. "I'm sorry…"

"Whoa, hey back up. What for?" Claude demanded, forgetting his back for the time being.

"For last night…for everyt'ing."

"Emil Francois Lapin, you have absolutely not'ing to be sorry for." Claude exclaimed. He put his fingers under Emil's chin and made his friend look at him. "C'mon, Red, listen to me. You _have_ to grieve for dem. Man, you kept everyt'ing you felt 'bout it bottled up inside your soul for de past t'irteen years. An' now it's makin' you miserable. So don' be sorry. Jus' let it out…don' hold any of it back. No one's gon' judge you or anyt'ing like dat b'cause you're finally lettin' yourself feel what you feel."

The tears that had been once again threatening to fall from Emil's sad blue eyes spilled over. "I jus'…I don' know what…it jus' hurts so much…I don' know how to deal wit' it." he said in between sobs.

In spite of his protesting muscles, Claude wrapped his arms around Emil again. "I know it hurts, kiddo. It hurts a lot. B'lieve me, I've been dere. We all have. Theo, Mercy, Genard an' me, we all know how it feels. An' if you let us, we'll help you t'rough dis."

"He's right, you know."

Claude and Emil looked up, startled. Theoren, Mercy and Genard were standing in the doorway. It was Mercy who had spoken. Once they saw that their presence had been noticed, they moved over and sat on the bed with their friends.

"You guys sure you can handle dis?" Emil asked with a wry chuckle. "I got t'irteen years of grief to let loose here…I don' know…"

"Sure we can." Genard grinned, squeezing Emil's hand. "We're a team, 'member? Like we've all been tellin' ya for de past while. We're here for ya, no matter what."

Emil wiped his eyes. "I musta been awfully good in a past life."

"What makes you say dat?" Theo wanted to know, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"B'cause if I wasn', I wouldn' have you guys." Emil explained. "Now, how 'bout we go get some breakfast? I'm starved."

***

Remy and Zoe were in the kitchen when the five thieves entered. They were both seated at the table various forms of breakfast food in front of them. Zoe was telling Remy about how her brother Shirow was doing in school, but she stopped talking when the others joined them.

"Is everyt'ing okay?" Remy asked.

"No…" Mercy said, glancing at her four companions. "But wit' time, it will be."

Zoe smiled at Emil. "I have faith that you'll be okay, Emil." 

"T'anks Zoe." Emil replied, sitting beside her and pouring himself some cereal. Claude sat by Remy and helped himself to some toast and bacon. That was as far as he got, though, because before anyone realized what had happened, the tired thief had fallen asleep, his head dropping to the table.

Remy snickered. "I t'ink maybe Claude needs to go back to bed."

"He was up all night wit' me." Emil said quietly. "He was still awake when I fell asleep an' dat was near dawn. I don' know what time he dropped off."

Remy nodded. "Okay. For helpin' Emil, he definitely deserves to go back to bed. Theo, Genard, give me a hand getting him upstairs, would you?"

Theoren, Remy and Genard returned a few minutes later, having taken Claude up to his room and settling him in bed. As a partial joke, Genard had made a sign and taped it to the door to Claude's room. It read "Disturb this man and suffer the consequences." The three of them got quite a kick out of it and thought Claude would too, after he woke up again.

"He still asleep?" Mercy asked when they returned.

"Oh yeah." Genard replied. "I t'ink he will be for awhile. Didn' even move when we put him in bed."

"Did anybody notice if Gris' come back or not?" Remy asked suddenly, changing the topic. Emil winced but didn't comment. He still felt bad that his idea had failed.

"I don't think so, Remy." Zoe replied. "Why?"

"Bel an' I want to have a little talk wit' him. I know he doesn' want to have anyt'ing to do wit' de unification, but he's still a member of dis Guild, an' dat means more den his own stubborn pride."

"You t'ink?" Emil said cryptically. He wasn't so sure.

"Bel does. An' I'm goin' wit' her on it. She's actually de one who wants to talk to Gris, not me, she jus' asked me to be dere. Yay for me." Remy rolled his eyes.

"Well, I hope Bel can get t'rough to him even a little." Theoren said. "B'cause if she can', he has de power to make dis peace real difficult."

Just outside the safehouse, Gris-Gris was standing on the porch, listening to the conversation between the thieves through the open kitchen window. None of them knew he was there, which is just the way he wanted it. He wasn't going to attack them, but he didn't want them to know he'd overheard them.

"Oh I can make de peace difficult, Marceaux. An' you can count on me doin' jus' dat." he whispered, glaring at the window.

To Be Continued…


	24. Part Twenty-Four

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Twenty-Four

Things were quiet and more or less peaceful in the Guild safehouse for the next four days. In fact, it was too quiet and too peaceful. Remy had an uneasy feeling that something was going to happen. Something bad. And he wasn't wrong either.

When Remy woke up on the fifth morning after he and the thieves had returned to New Orleans, he went down to the kitchen thinking that something was wrong. It wasn't early in the morning, and yet the safehouse was almost eerily quiet. He felt the same way he had felt when he had come back to stop the assassins from killing the rest of the thieves.

Uneasily, Remy got himself some breakfast and ate it, wondering where everyone was. Finally, because it was driving him crazy, he went down to the basement.

"Why am I not surprised?" he asked himself when he found the room empty. "Surely, dey wouldn' do de same t'ing twice…"

He went back upstairs, somewhat discouraged. It was still too quiet. He ran into Tante Mattie in the hallway by the living room.

"Dere's somet'ing wrong, Remy." She said, a worried frown on her face. She didn't know what was going on either, but she had a feeling Gris had a lot to do with it.

"I know Tante. But I can' find dem. I can' find any of dem." Remy replied with a sigh. "I don' know where dey are."

As if on cue, there was a loud bang from the second floor. Both Remy and Mattie looked up the stairs in time to see Claude slumping against the wall.

"Claude!" Tante Mattie exclaimed. Remy raced up the stairs three at a time, reaching Claude in time to catch him before he tumbled down the stairs. Mattie followed him. Claude was bleeding from a large gash in his side and as they sat there, he was fading in and out of consciousness. 

"Claude, what happened? What's goin' on?" Remy demanded, alarm evident in his voice.

Breathing heavily, attempting to catch his breath, Claude grabbed Remy's arm and managed to gasp out,

"Everyone…Gris…attic…"

"Tante Mattie, could you look after him? I'm gon' go stop Gris…again…" Remy said, getting up and heading towards the back staircase. 

"Of course, Remy. Be careful." Mattie replied, helping Claude lay down on the floor so she could tend to his wounds.

Claude looked up at Tante Mattie, pain in his eyes. "It's bad, Tante." He whispered. "Gris really doesn' want de unification to continue an' he's set on killin' everyone who stands in his way."

"Even de other assassins?" Mattie asked.

Claude closed his eyes, flinching in pain as he moved slightly. "Oui. None of dem can reason wit' him, not even Bel."

"Oh dear…" Mattie murmured. Things were not looking good for the Guilds at all. Gris was going to have to be stopped, and Mattie was worried about what it would take to do that. Remy, she knew, would do anything for the thieves, and for Bella Donna. The effort that had been put into the unification by everyone except Gris for the past few days was encouraging, and as Mattie worked on healing Claude's wounds, she silently prayed that somehow, it wouldn't all be in vain.

***

Remy went into the attic expecting to see nothing but trouble, and he wasn't disappointed. He quickly surveyed the scene and realized he would have to act fairly quickly.

Questa and Singer were tied up so they wouldn't get in Gris' way. Bella Donna, Mercy, Genard and Zoe were unconscious on the floor, each of them with various degrees of injuries. Emil was sprawled against another wall, breathing heavily and holding his stomach. Remy could see the pool of blood on the floor near him. Fifolet and Theoren were working together, trying to fight Gris, who was doing a fairly good job of beating them in spite of Theoren's agility and Fifolet's intangibility. 

Remy decided to give them a hand, absently making a note to himself to call Hank when this was over. He had a feeling Tante Mattie alone wouldn't be able to heal the others. He whipped out a couple of playing cards, charging them and flinging them at Gris with accurate precision as Gris literally tossed Theoren into a wall.

The exploding cards merely distracted Gris, who turned to Remy, ignoring Fifolet and Theoren.

"You t'ink you're gon' stop me, LeBeau?" Gris demanded.

"Yup." Remy replied, reaching and grabbing an old sword he saw mounted on a wall. He didn't have his bo staff in the attic with him, so the sword was going to have to suffice. Before he engaged Gris in battle, he glanced at Fifolet, who was helping Theoren to his feet. "Get de others out of here. An' tell Tante Mattie dat when dis is over, I'm gon' call Hank. We're gon' need a real doctor."

Fifolet and Theoren did as they were told and took everyone else out of the attic. Tante Mattie had gotten beds ready for the others, knowing that at least some of them were going to be injured.

Theoren, Fifolet, Singer and Questa helped Tante Mattie get the others into the beds. Theoren tried to hide the fact that he was in immense physical pain himself, but Fifolet noticed and raised an eyebrow.

"You got 'nother one of dese beds, Tante?" he asked. "Theoren's bein' stubborn an' pretendin' he's not hurt, but he is."

Theoren glared at Fifolet but couldn't stay upset because lying down sounded like a really good idea. "Gee, t'anks Feef." He muttered sarcastically.

"Anytime, Marceaux." Fifolet replied with a grin.

"Who do you t'ink is gon' win dat fight?" Singer queried, glancing at the ceiling. It sounded like Remy and Gris had given up on using weapons and were throwing each other around.

"Honestly?" Questa asked. "Given de fact dat if Remy really wanted to, he could literally blow Gris up…I'd have to say Remy will win."

"I hope it doesn' come to dat…" Tante Mattie commented softly, bandaging up Emil's stomach.

***

Remy groaned as he slammed into a wall. He flipped out another card and threw it at Gris. "C'mon Gris, dis is gon' too far."

Gris snorted and lunged at Remy again. "Not'ing is goin' too far when it comes to dis. De unification will not succeed, if I have anyt'ing to say 'bout it!"

Remy dodged Gris' attack and jumped to the other side of the room. "You don'! De only way you can stop de unification is to kill every single one of us, an' if you do dat, what good would it do you? You'd be de only one left!"

Gris pulled out a gun. "I won' listen to you!" he snarled.

Remy blew the gun up and sighed. "Yes you will. Gris, seriously, dere's not many of us left now as it is. Why jeopardize what's left when you won' gain anyt'ing from it?"

"I…don'…_care_!" Gris exclaimed, as he and Remy tussled on the floor. Remy decided to get dangerous and let his powers loose. He blew up the floor and the two went crashing down to the second floor of the safehouse, right into room where Tante Mattie, Singer, Fifolet and Questa were looking after the injured ones. The four of them looked at the two men in shock.

Remy chuckled sheepishly, glancing at the hole they'd made. "Hehehe…oops."

"Dis has to end." Tante Mattie said firmly. She wasn't joking. She was sick and tired of Gris' selfish behavior, and on top of that, she knew the others were in desperate need of a real doctor. "Remy, you know of a doctor who can come here an' help take care of everyone?"  
"Oui Tante." Remy replied.

"Good, den call him. I need help here. I can' heal dem all on my own." She informed him. Turning to Gris, she frowned. "An' you! You need to grow up. Dis has gone on long enough. I don' care if you don' like de unification. We're stuck in dis situation an' we're gon' make de best of it. Dat includes you, so you better start getting used to it. Any more shenanigans like dis one an' I _will_ get angry."

"Yes Ma'am." Gris said sullenly. He wasn't happy with the developments in the least, but he knew from experience that Tante Mattie could be a formidable opponent when provoked, and he realized she wasn't kidding.

Remy went to the living room to call Hank. He got a pleasant surprise when one of his best friends, Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm, answered the phone.

"Good morning, Xavier's School."

"Bonjour Stormy!" Remy replied cheerfully. He knew his nickname for Storm got on her nerves, but he couldn't help himself.

"Gambit, I _do_ wish you would not call me that." Ororo protested mildly.

"Sorry Storm. Listen, is Hank busy? We're in desperate need of a doctor down here, an' I'm hopin' he can come."

"I do not think he is occupied at the moment, Remy. Hang on a moment, and I will get him for you, so you can ask him yourself."

"T'anks." Remy replied and waited for Hank to come to the phone.

"Hello?" Hank's friendly voice said momentarily. Remy sighed.

"'Ey, Hank."

"Storm tells me you're in need of some medical assistance, my esteemed Cajun friend? What seems to be the trouble?"

"Gris decided to put the unification in jeopardy. He beat up most of de Guild members. Tante Mattie may be a healer, but she can only do so much. Dey need a doctor. Can you come down?" Remy asked hopefully.

"Of course I can." Hank replied. "Just let me get my things together and get a jet ready and I'll be down this afternoon. May I inquire as to whether or not Gris has been contained?"

"Tante Mattie got mad an' tol' him what was what. So you don' have to be concerned. I t'ink he'll b'have himself, for now, at least."

"Perhaps I should take Logan with me, just in case?" Hank joked.

Remy snickered. "If he wants to come, oui, take him along. I t'ink he might be one person even Gris would leave alone. So you'll be here in a few hours?"

"Yes, I should be."

"Okay. Call jus' b'fore you get here, an' I'll send Singer to meet you an' show you de way here." Remy said.

"I will do that. See you in a few hours." Hank replied.

Remy went back up to the second floor, where the others were. "Hank's on his way." He told them. "He should be here in a few hours, hopefully no later den suppertime."

Tante Mattie smiled, her face creased with concern. "I jus' hope dey don' get worse b'fore he arrives."

Remy glared at Gris. "Me too."

To Be Continued…


	25. Part Twenty-Five

Did Somebody Say McFriction

Did Somebody Say McFriction?

Part Twenty-Five

Remy opened the door when he saw the car pull up in the driveway, led by Singer floating effortlessly in the air in front of it. Hank had called a few minutes before and told Remy that they had touched down in New Orleans and rented a car. True to his word, Remy had sent Singer to meet them, and they had just arrived.

Hank, Jean and Logan got out of the car as Singer landed near the car and led the way to the safehouse.

"T'anks for comin' guys." Remy said. "Welcome to de safehouse of de Unified Guilds. Everyone's upstairs. You've met Singer. I'll introduce you to de others when we get upstairs. Oh and Singer, t'anks for goin' an' meetin' dem. I appreciate it."

Singer nodded silently, her eyes invisible behind her dark glasses. Jean absently wondered, as they followed Remy upstairs, why the beautiful female assassin didn't take the glasses off. 

Remy led the way into the room where the injured Guild members were resting. Gris was nowhere to be found Remy noticed, and raised a questioning look at Fifolet, who shrugged.

"He left 'bout five minutes ago, while you were down waitin' for dem. An' he didn' say where he was goin'."

Remy sighed. "Maybe if he stays out of everyone's hair, dis won' be dat hard." He said. He turned to his X-Men friends and introduced them to Tante Mattie and the remaining assassins. "Hank, Jean, Logan, I'd like you to meet Tante Mattie, Fifolet an' Questa. I t'ink you know de others. Everyone, dis is Dr. Hank McCoy, Jean Grey an' Logan."

Tante Mattie smiled at the three X-Men. "Welcome to New Orleans." She said in her soft voice. She addressed Hank without even a raised eyebrow at his appearance. "Dey are all more or less stable, mais I can' heal dem de way a real doctor can…"

Hank nodded. "That's fine, I'm sure you've done a wonderful job. Who has the most extensive injuries?"

Theoren, who was sitting up in bed in spite of the pain he was in, grinned at Hank. "Hey Doc. Fancy meetin' you here…"

"Good afternoon, Theoren. How are you feeling?" Hank replied.

"Only reason I'm in dis bed is 'cause Fifolet told Tante Mattie dat I was hurt. I'm fine." Theoren replied. "But de others aren'."

"To answer your question, Dr. McCoy, I t'ink Emil an' Claude have de most extensive injuries at dis point." Tante Mattie said. "De others have more less life-threatening injuries."

"Thank you." Hank replied and went over to inspect Emil's and Claude's wounds. Claude wasn't as bad off as Emil was, but Gris had done a very good job of slashing them with his knife. 

Emil opened his blue eyes drearily when he felt Hank's furry, clawed hands working on his still-bleeding stomach. "Hi Dr. McCoy…" he whispered, wincing at the pain he felt.

"Shhh Emil. Try to keep your breathing slow and as light as possible, okay? That will help me to get the bleeding to stop." Hank instructed him.

Emil nodded and groaned softly. It hurt so much the pain was almost unbearable. But he did exactly as Hank asked.

Jean examined Bella Donna, Genard, Zoe and Mercy, while Tante Mattie and Remy spoke to Theoren. Logan glared suspiciously at the three assassins, until Remy noticed and said something.

"Logan, relax. Guys, do you have any idea where Gris might have gone off to?"

"We have a few hangouts, oui. You want us to go check up on him?" Questa asked.

Remy nodded. "If it's not too much trouble. I know you're not his favorite people anymore, kinda like de rest of us, but you _are_ de closest t'ing to fam'ly he has. He might be able to use de comp'ny if you know what I mean…"

"We're on it." Fifolet said. "C'mon guys."

When the three assassins left the room, Remy glanced at Logan. "Dere's no need to be suspicious, Logan."

"I don't trust 'em." Logan snarled quietly.

"De assassins? Dey're not de bad guys in dis mess, mon ami. Well, de ones you just glared at aren'. Gris is." Remy explained. 

"Whatever." Logan commented. "They better just watch what they say and do…"

Remy went over and checked up on the progress Hank was making with Emil. When he stood by the bed, Emil reached up, wincing in pain, and grabbed the sleeve of Remy's shirt. "Gris can' be stopped, Rem."

"Don' give up on 'im, Red." Remy said quietly. "An' jus' relax, okay? Let Hank do his job, an' you'll be back on your feet in no time. So will everyone else."

"'Kay." Emil replied. He closed his eyes against the pain and Remy felt Emil's hand tighten on his shirt.

"Hey Hank? Go easy on 'im, he's been t'rough a lot. Hell, dey all have."

Hank smiled at his friend. "Don't worry, my esteemed Cajun friend. I will do my best for all of them."

***

"He's in de coffee shop." Questa told Singer and Fifolet. They had waited for their friend outside the shop in the shadows. Questa had altered his appearance before going into the shop so Gris wouldn't recognize him. He didn't want Gris to know too soon that he had been followed. 

"How're we gon' do dis? I mean he's pissed off at everyone right now, us included. He's not gon' be de happiest person in de world to see us." Fifolet wondered. 

"He has been takin' his hatred for de unification too far." Singer commented. "But Remy is right. We're de closest t'ing to a fam'ly he has, even if we don' agree wit' him anymore."

"True. I guess de only t'ing we can do is go in dere an' hope for de best." Fifolet conceded. "Let's jus' hope he ain' carryin' a gun..."

Questa chuckled. "I t'ink I'm de only one who carries one of dose on a regular basis." 

The coffee shop was a dingy, rundown place, which is probably why no one cared that Gris was there. No one paid any attention to him, just as no one paid any attention with the other three assassins walked in. If any of the shop's other patrons recognized the four killers, they didn't say a word, not wanting to risk getting in trouble with the legendary Assassins Guild.

Gris-Gris was sitting at a table in a corner of the shop. This gave him a perfect view of the entrance, so he could see the people coming and going. He sighed inwardly when he saw Fifolet, Questa and Singer walk in, but he motioned for them to join him anyway.

"Willingly askin' us to join you. I'm impressed." Questa commented as he and the others took their seats around the table.

Gris glowered at the three of them. "You would have anyway." He said in a slightly stony voice as a waitress in a pink and white uniform arrived to take their orders. He waited patiently as his friends all ordered coffee, and continued when the waitress left. "So why'd you follow me?"

The others looked at each other quickly. They hadn't decided just what to tell Gris. They knew how angry he could get when the thieves were mentioned.   
"Do you want an honest answer, mon ami?" Fifolet asked cryptically with a raised eyebrow.

Gris chuckled. "Lemme guess. LeBeau."

"Well…" Singer replied. "He had two reasons an' we couldn' disagree wit' either one of dem."

"What were dey?" Gris wanted to know.

They waited as the waitress served their coffee before Gris' question was answered. "In de first place, he t'ought you could use some comp'ny, an' we're de only real fam'ly you have." Questa explained. "An' in de second place, he wanted to get us away from dis friend of his who came wit' de doctor."

"Dis friend…who is he?"

Fifolet shrugged. "His name's Logan. Remy didn' give a last name. Short guy, burly. I hate to say it, but I t'ink he could take us. Dere's jus' somet'ing 'bout him dat gives me dat impression."

"Logan, huh? Prob'ly a mutant. LeBeau has a lot of mutant friends." Gris commented. "Interestin'…"

"Don' look like one, neither does de woman who came wit' dem. Hell, neither does Remy. But de doctor is, so you're prob'ly right." Questa said. "An' I t'ink if de doctor wanted to, he could take us too."

"Nobody can _take_ any of us. We're assassins, 'member? We're de ones who do de takin'. I don' like dis at all." Gris snapped. "LeBeau jus' better keep his friends outta Guild business. An' as for dis _Logan_ person, he'd be smart not to cross me. Or any of us. I admit to not bein' too happy wit' de three of you right now, but dat don' mean we ain' still a team. No mutant friend of LeBeau's is gon' get in de way. An' if he tries, den we'll jus' have to show him de meanin' of de word assassin."

"Is that a threat, bub?" 

To Be Continued…


	26. Part Twenty-Six

Part Twenty-Six

A few hours later, silence fell over the safehouse. Tante Mattie, Remy, Jean and Hank stood and watched their now-sleeping patients. They were most worried about Emil and Claude, who had suffered the most extensive and severe injuries. Each time one of them breathed deeply, they flinched in pain, in spite of being asleep.

Tante Mattie's emphatic abilities picked up on Jean forming a psychic bond with the two thieves, so that she would know instantly if either of them got worse. The old woman smiled kindly at Jean and shook her head, her long earrings swinging on either side of her face. Jean frowned slightly, wondering why the healer was saying no. She heard Mattie's voice inside her mind seconds later, answering the question.

'You don' need to keep a telepathic eye on dem, Chil'. I feel everythin' dey do, an' if dey become distressed, I will know instantly. Don' be worryin' 'bout dem.'

Jean nodded, not surprised that Mattie could speak to her telepathically. She knew all of them could, if they wanted to and if Jean's mind was open to it. 

Remy moved to the door and his three companions looked at him questioningly. "I t'ought we could go down to de kitchen an' take a breather. It hasn' been an easy day, after all."

"Dat's a wonderful idea, Remy." Tante Mattie agreed, following as Hank and Jean left the room behind Remy.

Once they were all comfortably seated in the cozy safehouse kitchen, Hank, after accepting a cup of tea from Tante Mattie, commented on the guild relationships.

"It is truly heartwarming to realize first hand just how much they care about each other, Remy. You are fortunate to have them in your life."

"Oui, I know, Hank. It's hard sometimes, an' de unification is still very touch an' go, mais even de other assassins are makin' an effort now. De only one who's still causin' problems is Gris, as you can see." Remy replied with a sigh, absently stirring his tea with a spoon.

"Tante Mattie," Jean began, having gotten an idea. "You told me earlier that you have an emphatic connection to Emil and Claude. Is that true for everyone in the guild family?"

Mattie smiled and nodded. "Oui, Chil'. Good or bad, ev'ry t'ief an' assassin in de guild has a special place in my heart. Dey are all very important to me, I love dem all as if dey were my own children. Why do you ask?"

"I was just noticing that the other assassins, as well as Logan, have been gone for hours. I'm starting to get worried about what might have happened to them, or what they might be doing to someone else." Jean explained.

"Dat's true, dey _have_ been gone a long time." Remy agreed. 

Mattie was silent for a few moments and then she laughed suddenly, shocking the people around her. "Dey're fine, an' so is ev'ryone else. I t'ink your friend Logan is teachin' Gris a t'ing or two 'bout bein' intimidatin'."

"Are you certain of that?" Hank questioned.

"I don' know how sure de t'ings I'm pickin' up are, Dr. McCoy, mais, I do believe Logan can hold his own wit' Gris, if I'm not mistaken."

It was Remy's turn to laugh. "Oh don' worry, Tante, you're right. Logan can definitely take care of himself, no matter who he's dealin' wit'."

"I certainly hope so." Mattie replied.

"What I would like to know is what happened when Logan showed up in front of the assassins." Jean giggled. Knowing Logan, it was probably a scene not to be missed.

***

Gris-Gris, Fifolet, Singer and Questa remained seated when Logan made his presence known to them. The four of them looked him over critically while he stood there by their table, calmly glaring at them, his brown eyes dark and menacing. After a brief silence, Gris answered the question.

"Maybe. I assume you are the one called Logan."

"Yer assumption's a good one. Mind if I join you?"

The other three simply raised their eyebrows when Gris looked at them questioningly. He shrugged. "Go 'head. We ain' stayin' long."

  
Logan sat down and pulled out one of his cigars, lighting it and blowing the smoke in Gris' face, making the bigger man cough. "Dere a reason for dat?" Gris asked as the waitress came over and asked Logan if he wanted anything. He said no and then chuckled lightly at Gris as the waitress went back over to ask some people who just walked in if she could get them anything.

"Maybe. Is there a reason why you said what you did?"

Gris' dark brown eyes took on a more menacing darkness. "Perhaps you don' know de meanin' of de word assassin."

"As a matter of fact, I do." Logan replied. "What difference does it make?"

"You never know, homme. I don' like you an' I don' want you stickin' your nose in where it don' b'long." Gris said quietly, standing. He headed for the door, followed by Fifolet and Questa.

Singer and Logan looked at each other. Singer raised her eyebrows so Logan could see them above her glasses, and stood as well. Before she followed her companions outside, she decided to see if he'd answer her question or not. "Are you a mutant, like Remy is?"

"Yep." Logan smiled. "And if yer friend thinks he can kill me easily, he's mistaken."

***

Five minutes later, Logan left the coffee shop. He looked briefly around and while he couldn't see the four assassins, he knew they were there. He could smell them. He snorted derisively and began walking down the sidewalk. There was an alley in between two buildings just down from the coffee shop and Logan stopped just before he reached it. They were in there, he knew, hiding in the darkness. Waiting.

Logan knew they couldn't take him by surprise, and he also knew _he_ could take _them_ by surprise. Feeling the familiar itch on the backs of his hands he decided he might as well get it over with and stepped into the entrance of the alley.

Gris had no idea that Logan knew the attack was coming. Singer had told him what Logan said to her in the coffee shop, and Gris was bound and determined to prove the other man wrong. As he moved to make the initial attack on Logan he heard a sound he would never forget for the rest of his life.

__

SNIKT!

In less time it takes to dial a phone number, Gris found himself trapped against one of the brick walls, pinned by two adamantium claws, one on either side of his neck. Logan growled at the assassins, and when Fifolet and Questa moved to attempt to help Gris, the appearance of the claws on Logan's other hand stopped them.

"There's three on this hand too, y'know, bub." Logan snarled to Gris. "And sometimes, when I get real annoyed, they slip. Ya don' want that to happen now, do ya?"

Gris visibly paled and cursed himself for being so scared. "Non…"

"Well good. Then we're in agreement."

"I didn' agree to nothin' 'cept dat I don' wan' dat t'ing to slip an' kill me." Gris protested.

"If ya don't want that to happen, bub, then ya better start listening to me. Yer friends over there have decided to try and make that unification work. That means listening to Gambit and no more picking on anyone. Ever. Ya got that, Cajun?"

"An' what if I don'?"

Logan frowned and snarled menacingly, almost predatorily, at the black man. "If ya don', then there won't be a hole in the ground anywhere on this planet that would successfully hide ya from me."

"Are you threatenin' me?" Gris demanded. 

Logan smiled, retracted his claws and walked out of the alley. He paused in the entrance and sneered back at the four astonished assassins. "No. It wasn't a threat. It was a promise."

To Be Continued


	27. Part Twenty-Seven

Part Twenty-Seven

  
  


Remy was waiting for Logan when the latter returned to the safehouse. Hank and Jean were back upstairs with Tante Mattie,   
who had, as promised, alerted them when Claude woke up crying in pain. So far, the rest of the injured guild members were   
still asleep, and Remy knew Tante Mattie and his friends didn't need his help while they took care of Claude. 

Logan grinned when he saw Remy sitting on the stairs, obviously waiting for his return. He paused briefly before speaking, his   
keen hearing picking up on the muffled sounds coming from upstairs. "How they doin'?" 

Remy sighed. "Not bad. Most of 'em are still sleepin', but Claude woke up a little while ago in quite a bit of pain. My question   
is, what happened?" 

"Nothin'. I had a nice little conversation with yer problem assassin and I think he's on the same page as the rest of ya now." 

"What's dat mean?" Remy asked. "None of us has been able to make Gris-Gris see reason…" 

"I'm the best there is at what I do, Cajun, remember?" Logan laughed. "In this case, what I did was intimidate him into thinking   
that trying to make the unification work is a good thing." 

"Dat's de best news I've heard in weeks." Tante Mattie's gentle voice commented from the top of the stairs. She motioned for   
them to join her. When they did, she led the way back to the room where Jean and Hank were looking after Claude and the   
others. Remy saw that Emil was awake and went over to speak to him, while Tante Mattie and Logan joined Jean and Hank   
on the other side of the room. 

Emil's blue eyes looked dull and tired when Remy looked at them. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. "'Ey   
Rem." 

"Hey. How you feelin', bro?" Remy replied. He and Emil were cousins, but they had always been more like brothers. For Remy   
to call Emil "bro" wasn't unusual. 

Emil flinched in pain as he tried to sit up and realized he couldn't do that just yet. "Been worse." He whispered. "Dey back yet?" 

"Logan is, yeah. He brought some good news for de unification." Remy told him. 

"What's dat?" 

Logan came over and answered Emil's question with a chuckle. "I simply forced him to realize that he's not the only bad-ass in   
the world and if he doesn't agree to work with the rest of you towards a peaceful unification, he'll have me to deal with." 

"And believe us, that won't be a fun thing for Gris, if he decides to go against Logan." Jean laughed. "Claude's doing better,   
Remy. Tante wanted you to know." 

"Good." Remy said and after giving Emil's red hair an affectionate ruffle, he went over and told Bella Donna and Theoren what   
Logan had done. As the three of them discussed future strategies, Gris walked into the room, followed by Singer, Fifolet and   
Questa.   
  


Gris hadn't wanted to go into the room. Not while Logan was still there. The very idea of having a second embarrassing   
confrontation with the stocky mutant was enough to fuel his lack of desire to see how everyone was doing. It took his friends to   
make him go in anyway and deal with it. 

"You never been a coward in your life, mon ami." Fifolet commented. "Don' let dis guy rattle you." 

"Fifolet's right, Gris. You always hold tradition highly. We're assassins, we shouldn' let a silly little mutant from goodness knows   
where change anythin' 'bout who we are." Questa agreed. Gris nodded. 

"Tradition is important. I may end up actually doin' what I didn' wan' do in de first place, but it might be for de betterment of de   
guild in de long run." 

Singer smiled at the three men. "An' we know dat de prophecies do say de two guilds are meant to be unified. De least we can   
do is be civilized in an attempt to fulfill dose prophecies." 

"Right." The agreement was unanimous. Without further discussion, the four assassins entered the room to find that most of the   
injured guild members were now awake. The mood in the room was hopeful, relieved and somewhat anticipant. 

Gris decided to just make it official, with a slight glare at Logan. "If you been hearin' some kinda rumor dat I'm not gon' fight de   
unification anymore, well, it's true. But dat don' mean I'm gon' like it." 

"No one said de unification was gon' be easy, Gris." Bella Donna commented. "Lord knows we haven' had an easy time of it so   
far. I don' t'ink de hard stuff is over, either, but at least now we're all goin' in de same direction." 

Tante Mattie smiled at the rest of the people in the room. "Everyt'ing happens for a reason. De difficulties we've been havin' are   
God's way of testin' our strength of character an' our ability to adapt to changes even if we don' like dem. I'm proud of every   
one of you, an' none of what's been happenin' has been in vain. I feel certain of dat."   
  


Late that night, Hank dimmed the lights in the room and paused at the door. Only two of the injured were still under his care.   
Emil and Claude were still suffering from the severe injuries Gris had dealt them earlier in the day, and while all the others had   
been allowed to go to their own rooms, Hank wanted to keep the two of them close to him. One of the spare rooms in the   
safehouse was across from the room they were in, and Remy had told Hank he could sleep there so he could keep an ear open   
for any problems during the night. 

Gris appeared in the doorway behind Hank and remained silent until the blue man spoke. "I don't know if they'll want to see   
you right now, Gris-Gris." 

"Dey're awake?" 

"Yes, they are for the moment. Is it possible that anything you wish to say to them can wait until the morning?" 

Gris shook his head. "Non. But I won' keep 'em up late." 

"Okay. Please leave the door open when you leave. I will be just across the hall and I want to make sure I can hear them if   
something happens during the night to aggravate their injuries." Hank said. 

When Hank left, Gris walked over, dreadlocks swinging around his face in a beaded frame, and sat down on a chair near the   
two thieves. They both knew he was there, and while they didn't want to talk to him, they both opened their eyes and looked at   
him in pained silence. 

Claude finally broke the slightly tense silence. "Why're you here, Gris?" 

"You two gon' be okay?" Gris asked, his voice quiet. 

"I am, yeah." Claude nodded briefly. He looked at Emil and raised his eyebrows. Gris followed the look and sighed, knowing   
that Emil's answer was going to be a mixed one. 

Emil gasped in pain as he took a deeper breath than he had planned on, and then gave Gris a lopsided grin. "Physically, yeah I'll   
be fine. We'll have to work on de other stuff, t'ough." 

The large man nodded. "Oui. I can' actually come out an' 'pologize yet, but maybe we can work on dat too, huh?" 

"Sounds like a plan to me. Dat's what dis unification is all about, right? Workin' out diff'rences, adaptin' to changes an' learnin'   
how to be one fam'ly, not two." Emil agreed. 

"Right." Claude smiled. "If we work together, we can make dis work, eventually. It's jus' a matter of stickin' it out an' not givin'   
up." 

"An' figurin' out how to deal wit' de stuff we hate, de stuff dat drives us crazy." Gris finished. "Well, I promised de doctor I   
wouldn' keep you guys awake too long, so I'll actually do somethin' nice now an' keep dat promise. Dis ain' gon' be easy, but   
someday we jus' might succeed." 

After Gris left them to retire to his own bedroom, Claude and Emil looked at each other. 

"Wow. What de hell was dat?" Emil was astounded. 

"Dat was de effects of Logan on Gris. He must've really struck a cord wit' our resident grouchy killer. No way on earth would   
Gris have ever done or said anythin' like dat on his own." 

Emil shook his head. "Maybe. You t'ink it'll last?" 

Claude sighed and closed his eyes. "For de sake of everyone we know…includin' ourselves an' Gris himself, I sure as hell hope   
so." 

"Me too. 'Night Claude." 

"'Night kiddo." 

(AUTHOR'S NOTE, February 5, 2002: I have decided to end this story right here for the time being. I have quite a few other stories on the go that need and deserve my attention without my having to worry about finishing this one as well. Someday, I'll write a sequel to it, but for now, this is it. I had a lot of fun writing it, shed a lot of tears too. It is definitely one of my favorites of the stories I've written. TTFN! ~Quinn) 


End file.
